


Original Sin

by CydSA



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels are Dicks, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, M/M, Sibling Incest, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 04:09:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CydSA/pseuds/CydSA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Certainty of death, small chance of success…What are we waiting for?” Who knew that a trip back to the Garden of Eden would change the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Original Sin

_"A river flowed out of Eden to water the garden, and there it divided and became four rivers. The name of the first is the Pishon. It is the one that flowed around the whole land of Havilah, where there is gold. And the gold of that land is good; bdellium and onyx stone are there. The name of the second river is the Gihon. It is the one that flowed around the whole land of Cush. And the name of the third river is the Tigris, which flows east of Assyria. And the fourth river is the Euphrates."_  
—Genesis 2:10-14  
And the Lord God said, "The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil. He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever." (Genesis 3:22) 

Castiel’s visit started it all.

“We have a problem.” 

Dean yelped as Castiel appeared in the bathroom beside the shower. Even though the curtain was pulled closed, Dean had the immediate desire to grab something to wrap around him, like an eiderdown. 

“Holy shit, Cas!” he growled and stuck his head out of the shower. “Get the fuck out of the bathroom, you idiot! Respect the sanctity of the shower, man.”

Castiel stared at him for a moment, blue eyes barely focused on him. “I will go and speak with Sam in the meanwhile,” he said after a hesitant breath. “Perhaps this was not the best way to begin this conversation.”

“You think?” Dean yelled after him. He heard the murmur of voices as Sam greeted Castiel. The bunker was home now, and they didn’t get many visitors. Castiel was one of the few.

Dean grabbed a towel and roughly dried himself, annoyed that he couldn’t just do his usual naked walk through the bunker to his room and freak Sam out. He had an over-abundance of modesty when it came to Castiel. Ever since the hooker incident, Dean had tried to keep Castiel more-or-less innocent. He wrapped the towel around his waist and headed to his room.

Sam opened his mouth to call him when he saw him, but he waved a hand. “Let me put some clothes on and I’m there,” Dean said.

He pulled on the first jeans and t-shirt that came to hand, and padded back out on bare feet. Sam was already heading to the library, searching for some old relic of a book, and Dean sighed. Just a week off, he wondered, was that so much to ask?

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel nodded to him. Dean barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

“You’re kinda past hello, Cas,” Dean nodded at him with a smile. “I’m assuming there is some fresh catastrophe that brings you our way?” He said it completely unironically. Castiel tended to only stop by these days to impart bad news.

“I…” Castiel stopped, and his mouth twisted a little. “I would like to say that my visit is a social one,” he admitted.

Dean grinned again. “Coming to shoot the breeze, have a few brews, catch up with the heavenly host?”

He enjoyed the little squirming motion Castiel made with his shoulders. “No,” Castiel said, and looked over at Sam in helpless appeal. “I have news that there may perhaps be something of a problem.”

Dean sighed. “Of course you do.” He sat at the table that dominated the room. “Pull up a pew and tell us about it.”

Castiel frowned. “This is not a church.”

“God, Cas, so many years with us and you still don’t get the slang?” Dean scrubbed a hand through his still-wet hair. “Sit down.” He kicked one of the chairs out towards Castiel, who promptly sat.

And said nothing.

“Cas?” Dean prompted.

Castiel looked at him. “I have asked Sam to find some literature before I begin,” he said. “I am waiting.”

Dean looked over to where Sam had pulled out several books and was carrying them towards the table in a precariously wobbling tower. “Need a hand, Sammy?” he asked.

“Nope,” Sam dropped the pile on the table with a thud. “Thanks.” He smiled at Dean.

“What books you got there?” Dean asked and poked at the pile with a finger. The pile wobbled, and Sam made a grab for it, glaring at Dean.

“I requested that Sam pull out some literature on the book of Genesis,” Castiel said.

Dean looked at him. “Weren’t you there? Can’t you give us the Cliff Notes version?” He liked to needle at Castiel sometimes, just push a little harder than he should. The angel seldom responded.

Castiel opened his mouth to respond, but Sam jumped in. “Don’t be an asshole, jerk.”

“Shut up, bitch,” Dean shot back. He stopped the book that Sam had tossed across the smooth surface of the table with his hand. “Oh Cas, I’ll bite, why are we doing research into Adam and Eve?”

“They were not a fictional myth,” Castiel said.

Dean held up his hands. “Whoa, man, don’t get your panties in a holy twist. I never said anything about them being a myth.”

Castiel was even more tense than usual. “I have asked someone else to join us,” he said. “But I will have to go and collect him as I do not wish for him to discover the whereabouts of the Men of Letters sanctuary.”

“Wait, what?” Dean spluttered, but Castiel had vanished in a flurry of wind. “The fuck?” Dean asked Sam.

Sam shrugged. “No idea,” he said, He started paging through the book he’d pulled off the pile. “Guess we’ll have to wait until Cas gets back.” 

“If you don’t know what he’s talking about, then what the hell are you looking for?” Dean asked.

“Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve, Genesis,” Sam said. “Any, and all, of the above.” He pointed at Dean. “Come on, you need to do your part.”

Dean slumped in his chair. “Can’t you just ask the internet?” He waved at the laptop.

Sam shook his head. “Nope, a lot of the stories about the Genesis account predate the internet and much of it has been lost over time.” He pointed at the book. “Research mode, dude.”

Dean wanted to pout. He started paging through the book in front of him unenthusiastically.

The popping sound that the air made when Castiel returned made Dean jump. Twice in one day, the creeper was going to fucking pay, he thought.

And then he saw who Castiel had gone to collect.

“Holy fucking shit fucking what the fuck?” He almost fell out of his chair and got whiplash trying to find the demon knife.

“Hello boys.” The unmistakably smooth tones of the King of Hell made the hair on the back of Dean’s neck rise.

“What the fuck, Cas?” he shouted. “You brought Crowley here?”

Crowley rolled his eyes so hard it was almost audible. “Keep your knickers on, Squirrel,” he said. “Your angel pal made sure there was no way for me to find my way back here again.” The look he gave Castiel was _not_ friendly. “I think I may have actually left my spleen somewhere past the thirteenth century.”

Sam gaped. “You time travelled him here?”

Castiel shrugged. “It seemed the safest way to ensure that he doesn’t know where _here_ is,” he said. “It has left me very weary.”

“Huh,” Sam said and then looked back down at the book. “So I think I found some…”

“Wait the fuck a minute!” Dean held up a hand. “Seriously, Cas, what the hell?”

“My kingdom, my insult,” Crowley said. Dean glared at him. Crowley didn’t appear cowed at all. Fucking demons.

“We have a mutual enemy,” Castiel said, shifting a little. His usual stillness was undermined by a fine tremor that seemed to run though his body. “It seems that it may be in our best interests to work with the demon until we have managed to fix this mess.” Castiel was afraid and Dean could see it.

Dean hitched one ass cheek up on the table, leg dangling, while the other stayed firmly on the ground. He ignored Sam’s wordless protest about asses on chairs and not tables, and kept an eye on Crowley, who was wandering around the room, poking his demonic nose into everything. “He can’t get out of here somehow?” Dean asked.

Castiel shook his head. “I have bonded him to me,” he said, and Sam’s head shot up.

“What the fuck?” Dean howled.

“You what?” Sam yelled.

Dean pushed off the table, Sam was on his feet in an instant, and they were both shouting at Castiel, who sighed.

“Take it down a notch, you two,” Crowley said and helped himself to a glass of the good whiskey that Dean had been saving for a special occasion. “Your little feathered friend is playing a dangerous game with me, but I’m going along with it right now, while it suits me.”

Sam stared at Castiel. “How the hell does an angel bond with a demon?”

“More importantly, why the fuck would you do something so insanely stupid?” Dean demanded.

Crowley made himself comfortable on the sofa and sipped his drink. “A feather here, a hydra scale there, some blood, fairy tears and a dragon’s tongue…” He tilted his glass at Castiel. “I hate to admit it, feather boy, but that was a fairly impressive bit of spell-casting, even though I feel deliciously violated.”

Castiel’s face was impassive as he looked at Dean and Sam. “It was necessary,” he said. 

“Fucking idiot,” Dean spat and went to get a glass of whiskey for himself.

“I had to make sure that he wouldn’t betray me – us -” Castiel’s eyes were a little shifty. “I am as unhappy as you are that we need to work together with Crowley on this, but it is necessary.”

“You keep saying that,” Dean said and he shot a glare at a far-too-comfortable Crowley. “What can he do that you can’t?”

“Ah, yes,” Crowley purred. “Why don’t you enlighten us, Cas?” 

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “I would suggest that you remember what the bond can do,” he said to Crowley. 

Dean was surprised to see the minute flinch Crowley made. He wondered just what this bond entailed.

“So, you told me to pull books that contained information on the Genesis account, specifically the Garden of Eden.” Sam was obviously going to ignore the bond issue until later. Dean decided to follow his lead. For now.

“Someone bring back Adam and Eve as zombies?” Dean asked. “I really want to kill some zombies.” He could only hope this was that simple.

“No zombies,” Castiel said. He looked at Sam. “What do you know of the story of the Garden of Eden in the book of Genesis?”

Sam shrugged. “Adam and Eve got caught eating forbidden fruit, and then were cursed with mortality, sin, and kicked out of Paradise.”

“Succinct, but not entirely accurate,” Castiel said. He exchanged a look with Crowley. “The tree that the first humans ate from was the Tree of Knowledge. Until then, evil or sin only existed as an entity separate from man.”

Dean made a hurry-up motion with his hand. “Yeah and what does that have to…” 

“Dear God, it’s like dealing with single cell life-forms,” Crowley said in disgust. “Just shut up and listen for once, and perhaps you’ll learn something.”

Dean flipped him off with a sneer. “Listen you…”

“Dean,” Sam said, and Dean closed his mouth. “Please, Cas, carry on.”

Castiel sat down then, clasping his hands in front of him on the table. “After their sin, the Lord exiled them from Eden, blocking their access to the Garden.”

“I remember something about an angel and a sword,” Sam said.

“Yes,” Castiel nodded. “Gabriel was given the task of preventing mankind from ever returning to Eden.”

“Gabriel?” Dean leaded forward. “ _Our_ Gabriel? Trickster? Porn star? _That_ Gabriel?”

Castiel gave a small smile. “He took his duties much more seriously back then.” 

Dean was still busy trying to wrap his head around the thought of Gabriel as the bad-ass angel keeping humans out of Paradise. “Ya think?” he quipped and then bit his lip when Sam glared at him. “Seriously, Sammy, the fucking dick who killed me over a hundred times?”

Sam shook his head. “Don’t.” His voice was clipped. “Never something to joke about, Dean.” He sat back down and pulled one of the books towards him, not looking at Dean.

Dean wanted Castiel and Crowley to disappear for a moment so that he could comfort his brother, reassure him that he was here and alive and not planning on going anywhere.

“Dude,” he muttered, always uncomfortable with Sam’s close-to-the-surface emotions. Sam didn’t look up.

“Anyway,” Castiel cleared his throat. “The blocking of Eden from mankind had nothing to do with Paradise lost or regained or anything that Milton wrote.”

Crowley helped himself to another shot of whiskey. “Milton was an idiot.” 

Castiel leveled a look at Crowley, who went to sit down again. “God shut humans out of Eden so that they would not have access to the Tree of Life,” Castiel explained.

“Why?” Dean asked.

“Ah, the billion dollar question,” Crowley smiled at Dean. He looked like a shark. In Armani. It was fucking disturbing.

“Please, let me tell this in my way,” Castiel said, and Crowley closed his mouth, motioning that he was zipping his lip. If the bond thing wasn’t so fucking scary, Dean would be dancing with joy. Anything that shut Crowley up couldn’t be all bad, right?

“The Tree of Life was forbidden to humans once they had sinned and evil walked the earth,” Castiel said.

“Blah blah blah,” Crowley made an impatient movement with his hand. “Bottom line is that if a human eats of the fruit of the Tree of Life, they will receive immortality.”

Sam and Dean both stared at him. “But the Tree doesn’t exist anymore, does it?” Sam asked.

“Well,” Castiel began.

“Of course it still exists, you morons!” Crowley spat. “God made sure that there was more than enough temptation still out there for you hairless apes.”

“Crowley,” Castiel’s warning was low and dangerous.

“What are you going to do to me for telling the fucking truth, Cas?” Crowley’s sneer was audible. “Spank me?” The next moment he gasped and shuddered and passed out

“Uh,” Dean said.

“Huh,” Sam said.

Castiel sighed. “Perhaps I should focus a little more on the now rather than the past,” he said. “It might speed things along.”

“Yeah, Cas, why don’t you try that?” Dean said. He exchanged a look with Sam. They seldom needed words these days. More often than not, communication happened without speech. 

“When the Lord sent the Flood to destroy the earth,” Castiel began, and Dean barely suppressed a groan. Castiel’s idea of speeding things up might only take the next hundred years instead of the next thousand. “He prepared Mankind for its destruction by using Noah.”

“Noah was real?” Sam looked intrigued. 

Crowley opened his eyes, sat up and snarled at Castiel. “I will make you pay for this, you utter prick.”

“Don’t distract him, asshole,” Dean hissed. 

Castiel glowered at them all. “Of course Noah was real.” He shook his head. “The Bible was not _all_ metaphor and prophecy.” 

Sam held up a hand. “Sorry, Cas, but Noah? Seriously, real guy?”

Castiel nodded. “He was one of the faithful.” 

Crowley made a disparaging noise into his whiskey. “By the time you get done telling them why we’re here, the point will be moot.” He smirked. “A moot point is a terrible point to make.” 

Dean bit his lip. Crowley was _not_ going to make him laugh. He looked over at Sam, who had his head buried in a very large book and his shoulders were shaking.

Castiel sighed. “I think perhaps I am not the best person to explain this.”

Crowley clapped his hands. “Allow me then, oh bonded one!” He stood up with a flourish. “Back in the day - Noah’s day that is - the angels had a bit of a rebellion.”

“Another one?” Sam’s dry question made Dean laugh.

“Angels, all evidence to the contrary, are not always the agents of good,” Crowley said.

“This we know,” Dean said. He exchanged a worryingly companionable smile with Crowley. Sharing a sense of humor with Crowley was like getting into a shark cage with a shark. It wouldn’t end well for the human.

“Exactly,” Crowley arched an eyebrow. “May I continue?” Dean waved his hand, and Castiel folded his arms across his chest. “So, some of God’s children decided that the women of the earth looked pretty tasty.” Castiel made a noise of protest. “Yes, I know, Cas, you weren’t one of them.” 

Crowley continued, “Anyway, back then, when angels and humans bumped uglies, sometimes it resulted in children, as these things do.”

“The Nephilim,” Sam said.

“And Moose wins the prize,” Crowley pointed at him, tipping his glass. 

“Nephilim?” Dean frowned. “Why have I heard that before?”

“You’ve read the Bible,” Castiel said. “You would have seen the name.”

Dean shook his head. “No, something else is making me think…” He looked at Crowley, “Carry on, it’ll come to me.”

“Thank you,” Crowley’s words were saccharine sweet, patently sarcastic, and he glared at the room in general. “So, the Flood happened, everyone still with me?” They all nodded. Dean was amused to see that Castiel did too. “The angels dematerialized and scooted back to their heavenly abode, leaving their children to fend for themselves.”

Sam held up a hand, as though he was in some advanced geek class. “But according to the Bible account, only Noah and his family escaped with their lives.”

“Ah yes,” Crowley said. “Eight souls supposedly survived the Flood.” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time that we weren’t told everything.”

Castiel opened his mouth as though in protest and then slumped back in the chair. “He’s right,” he admitted. “It was not only Noah’s family that lived.”

“So, God lied?” Dean asked, not entirely surprised.

“He didn’t tell the _whole_ truth,” Castiel hedged.

“Man, one day, when I meet that asshole,” Dean said, shaking his head. “So, I’m guessing that this has something do with the other people who survived the Flood?”

“The Nephilim,” Crowley nodded. “They lived; some of them, went into hiding, bred like rabbits, and started calling themselves the _Children of Etz haChayim_ or, the _Children of the Tree of Life_.” Crowley paused dramatically, obviously expecting them to gasp in shock or disbelief or something.

He looked a little peeved when they all just stared at him. “It’s like performing for chimpanzees,” he muttered. “So, they passed down the knowledge of the location of the Garden of Eden and the Tree of Life to their children…”

“Wait a minute,” Sam put his hand up again, and Dean shook his head. You could take the student out of the classroom… “How did they know about it?”

“Their fathers, the angels,” Castiel answered him. “They shared the sacred secrets with their women and their children and the things that should only be known to the holy ones…”

“Put a sock in it, Cas,” Crowley said with a sneer. “Your not-so-perfect brothers fucked up and now _we_ have to clean up their mess.”

“Hey!” Dean felt the need to defend Castiel. “Don’t piss on the angel trying to make things right.”

Castiel’s expression did not show gratitude. “I am not my brothers’ keeper,” he said.

Sam snorted a laugh. “Seriously? You’re quoting the Bible at us?”

Castiel shook his head. “We were not aware of this until now. The location of the Garden of Eden has been a sacred secret since the dawn of humankind. It was never meant to be found.”

“So why didn’t God destroy the Garden and everything in it?” Dean asked.

“Ding! Ding! Ding! And we have a winner!” Crowley looked at Castiel. “Come on Cas, tell us why our Father didn’t obliterate the cradle of mankind right from the start.”

Castiel mumbled something that Dean couldn’t catch.

“What?” Dean asked. “He what?”

“He likes gardening,” Castiel said a little louder. “And Eden is the only place on earth with every sort of tree and plant and flower in it.”

“He likes…” Sam stared at Castiel. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Sam swearing was an indication of just how unexpected Castiel’s answer had been. 

Dean thought hard about his time in heaven with Sam. The old guy in the garden. “That fucking liar!” He glared at Castiel. “It was Him all along? Joshua? That wasn’t God’s buddy, that was the Big Cheese Himself!” He felt rage sweeping over him. “And He fucking sold us out right there and then.”

“Hey, take it easy,” Sam urged. “That’s ancient history now.”

“Fuck that!” Dean said, vibrating with anger. “He fucking left us to pick up the pieces of His children’s kindergarten battle and you paid the price for it.” The memory of Sam, broken and battered by reliving Hell every moment of every day still made Dean want to go out and shoot something. He now had a target in mind. Sam got out of his chair and came over to where Dean was standing. He put a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Sam’s big hand squeezed tight. “It’s done,” he said, and he leaned into Dean so that Dean could feel the heat of his brother’s very-much-alive body. “We’re alive. Let it go.”

Dean looked at him, and he felt the burn behind his eyes. “He let you go to hell because He couldn’t deal with His own children.” Dean hated that this still hurt so much. “Sammy, He betrayed us all.”

Sam’s other hand came up and urged Dean around so that he was facing him. “I’m okay with that,” he said. “I came back to find you alive. That’s the most important thing. You need to be okay with that too.” 

Dean lifted a hand and wrapped it around Sam’s throat. “You might be okay with it - I’m still fucking pissed.” He slanted a hard glare at Castiel. “And now He wants us to fix up another mess.”

Dean felt the beat of Sam’s pulse beneath his palm. It had become a ‘thing’ that Dean did all the time. It was his way of reassuring himself that his brother was still alive, still with him. Feeling that heavy thud of blood beneath his skin made Dean calmer somehow. Sam was alive, Sam was okay, Sam was with him. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Crowley threw himself back into his chair. “It’s worse than a Mexican soap opera!” He looked between them. “I always thought that you and Cas would make a go of it, Squirrel.” His smile was unpleasant. “Didn’t realize that you were already taken.”

Dean was heading for Crowley with a snarl when Castiel snapped, “Enough.” Suddenly there was a thick cloud of complete darkness swirling around the King of Hell. Dean could hear him swearing and threatening Castiel, but was as though Crowley was shouting at them through water. Mostly just a bubble of sound that was indistinct.

“You need to teach me that trick,” he told Castiel.

“The Children have started to make their move,” Castiel said, ignoring Dean and looking at Sam. “They intend to search out the Tree of Life, eat of the fruit and take immortality.”

Sam stepped away from Dean, and it took everything Dean had not to reach out and hold him in place. “If they do this, what are the consequences? Why should _we_ be worried?” Sam swayed a little, and Dean put a hand on him, steadying him.

“You okay?” he asked.

Sam nodded. “Tired, just really tired.” He kept in arm’s reach though as he pulled out a chair next to Dean. Dean sat back down again, legs spread so that his knee knocked against Sam’s.

“If the children of the Nephilim find the Tree and eat of its fruit, it will mean the end of mankind.” Castiel looked entirely too serious.

“Oh perfect,” Dean shook his head. “Just what we need, another Apocalypse.”

Castiel shook his head as well. “No, Dean, the children of men will not die out. The children of the Nephilim are part human, part angel. They are stronger than humans, bigger, faster. If they gain immortality, they will have no need for mankind other than as slaves, as cattle.”

“Sure, that’s nothing like how the angels or the demons think of us.” Dean couldn’t hold back the sneer.

Crowley burst out from inside the cloud, eyes wild. “You fucking asshole!” He pointed a shaking finger at Castiel. “I will rip out your soul and feed it to my Hellhound if you _ever_ try something like that again. Do you hear me?”

Castiel’s gaze stayed untroubled. Dean thought it was a pretty imaginative threat, but whatever bond Castiel had used to tie Crowley to him was obviously enough to give Castiel a fair bit of confidence. 

“Heaven and Hell are only interested in the souls of mankind,” Castiel said. “Your bodies are an afterthought, merely vessels to be used by the servants of Heaven and Hell to move unnoticed among you.”

Dean hated being reminded how very _not_ human Castiel was. When he talked like this about people it made something inside Dean scream in denial.

“Stop talking about us like we don’t matter,” he gritted.

Sam’s knee bumped his, and Dean forced himself to relax. 

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Castiel bowed his head. “I sometimes forget just how much I have changed. Especially in the way I feel about humans.” His smile was a little sad. “Unfortunately, I am among the vast minority of my brethren in caring about you. It makes it difficult to be around them.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the other dicks,” Dean said. “You know better.”

Castiel nodded. “Yes,” he said. “But the fact remains that the children of the Nephilim gaining immortality would be catastrophic for all of God’s creations.”

“Because they’ll live forever?” Sam asked. “That makes no sense, the angels and demons live forever and it seems to be fine with the universe.”

Castiel exchanged another look with Crowley. Dean looked between them and suddenly things made sense.

“You’re not immortal,” he said, pointing between them. “You can still die.”

Sam stared at him. “That’s right,” he said. “The demon knife and the angel swords don’t just eject you from your human vessels, they kill you.”

Crowley let out a breath. “And that, dear boys, is why we have to stop them.”

Dean still wasn’t sure why they had to get involved. “But surely you can kill them and stop all this shit from going down?”

Castiel shook his head. “We are not allowed.”

“Allowed to what?” Sam asked.

“We are forbidden.” Castiel looked pissed.

Crowley looked homicidal. “Michael and Lucifer are two of the angels that fathered children with humans.” 

“I thought that the angels that came to the earth were forbidden access to heaven again?” Sam had obviously been remembering his Bible stories.

Castiel shook his head. “That came later,” he said. “When the Lord brought the Flood upon the earth, the angels that had been residing with the women of mankind dematerialized and returned to their abode.”

Dean held up a hand. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Are you telling me that because your brothers fucked women and had bastard children, you can’t kill _their_ descendants?”

Castiel clasped his hands in front of him again. “That is the gist of it,” he admitted.

“Fuck.” Dean leaned a little closer to Sam until their shoulders were touching. “Fuck.”

“Well, that’s what started the entire mess,” Crowley said with a small smirk. Dean snorted a laugh this time. 

“So where are they?” Sam asked Castiel. “The children?”

Crowley held up a finger. “Ah, the question for the ages,” he said. “Tell them, why don’t you?”

Castiel was practically scowling at Crowley. “They are warded against us,” he said through clenched teeth. “We cannot see their whereabouts.”

Dean looked at Sam. “Yeah, that’s gonna make things a little harder.”

Sam leaned forward, books forgotten. “Do they have powers?” he asked. “I mean, they’re the descendants of angels.”

Castiel shook his head. “Not powers like angels, but they are more than human.” He looked a little frustrated. “I mean, think of them as werewolves or vampires.”

Crowley put a hand on the table, and Dean met his gaze. “They’re lower than angels and demons,” he said. “It’s a genetic mutation that needs to be stamped out.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Like humans?” he suggested. 

“No,” Crowley banged the table with a clenched fist. “They’re abominations. They shouldn’t have survived the Flood, and now we’re faced with the possibility of a group of immortal pricks who want to rule the world.”

Dean tapped his chin. “Hmm,” he mused. “Wonder who that sounds like. Wait a minute,” he held up a hand when Crowley opened his mouth again. “I’ll have it in a minute.”

Sam’s smile was a beautiful thing. “You mean like the demons?” he asked, eyes wide and innocent.

“You know…” Dean said, snapping his fingers. “That’s it!”

“I don’t know whether you know this,” Crowley said conversationally, “but I despise the both of you.”

Dean stood and bowed to an invisible audience. “And my life is complete,” he said.

“This is no time for levity,” Castiel said. “The threat is real, and we can do nothing to stop it.”

“In this time,” Crowley amended, glancing at Castiel.

“In _this_ time,” Castiel agreed.

Dean was immediately suspicious of anything that these two agreed on. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked. Sam looked concerned too, which made Dean feel better about his reaction. He tended to over-react when it came to anything involving angels or demons. Things usually ended up dead.

“We will have to send you back in time,” Castiel said.

Dean was shaking his head before Castiel had finished his sentence. “Oh no, not after the last time you did that.”

Sam shook his head as well. “Yeah, as a spectacular success it really failed.”

“You killed the phoenix, and even though you were not able to bring its ashes back through time, you still managed to kill the Mother of All.” Castiel looked at them.

“I was talking more about the time before that,” Sam said.

Dean barely controlled his flinch. His memory was very clear on his father being worn like a pretty suit by Michael. He _really_ hated angels sometimes.

“It is the only way,” Castiel said again, and his eyes were hard. “We cannot let this come to pass.”

Sam looked at Dean. “It doesn’t have to be us,” he said.

Dean looked back in surprise. It was the first time in a very long time that Sam hadn’t taken the responsibilities of the human race on his shoulders. “Someone else to do the dirty work?” he asked.

Sam nodded. “We’re more than due an apocalypse sit-out.”

“Then who?” Dean asked. And it was really just that simple. There _was_ no one else. The other hunters weren’t involved in the angel-demon war, most of them still just focused on the monster hunts or basic salt and burns. 

“I…” Sam shook his head. “It’s not fair,” he said, and his thumb dug into the meat of his palm, pressing against the now invisible scar that reminded them of just how much he’d already sacrificed. His voice was drained of life, and Dean knew that the decision was already made.

“Fair is for children,” Castiel said, not unkindly. “We have no more time to lose.”

Dean lifted his gaze and found Crowley staring at him. “What?” he asked.

Crowley shook his head. “You just keep on with your sacrificing of yourselves, don’t you? And what do you get for it?”

Sam shrugged. “We get to stop the world from ending.”

“Again,” Dean said and didn’t bother hiding the bitterness. 

Crowley’s eyes were shrewd. “I could use a pair of generals like you,” he mused. “Loyal, stubborn.”

“They are _not_ yours.” Castiel said, voice flat.

“They aren’t yours either, though, are they?” Crowley asked.

“We’re not some bone that you two get to fight over,” Dean said. He felt the warmth of Sam’s thigh against his and remembered who they were. “We’re Winchesters, descendants of hunters and Men of Letters. We’re more than any of you dicks will ever be, power and all.”

Sam looked at him, and his eyes were shining. “You believe that?” he whispered.

Dean stared back at him. “You fucking better believe it,” he said, and let his mouth curve a little. “We’re the best of the fucking best, and we belong to no-one but ourselves.”

“And each other,” Sam said, lifting one hand and resting it on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean nodded. “And each other.” He felt his throat close a little over the words, and they came out hoarse. Sam’s gaze remained on him, and Dean wondered just when the world had decided to start spinning in the _other_ direction.

“Zachariah was right,” Castiel said, staring between them. “Your feelings for each other will always get in the way of the mission.”

Crowley’s laugh was delighted. “You don’t even know how you feel, do you?” He came up to them, and Dean tried to control the flinch when Crowley’s hand dropped onto his shoulder. “There’s a reason why neither of you have ever managed to maintain a relationship with anyone other than each other.”

Sam turned a little and looked at Crowley. “Dean comes first.” He shrugged. “That’s what I know.”

Dean’s stomach swooped unpleasantly. He thought that maybe he was coming down with something.

Castiel sighed. “I need to look at your soul, Dean.”

Dean found himself at the other side of the room in approximately a heartbeat. “Not a fucking chance, Cas! Soul rape is never going to happen. My soul is right where it should be, thank you very much.”

Sam stood up as well. “That shit isn’t necessary, Cas.” Dean saw that Sam had positioned himself between them, providing a barrier that Castiel would have to go through to get to Dean.

Dean was sure that Crowley was laughing, the asshole, as Castiel replied, “I need to check to see if what I suspect is true, Dean.” He met Dean’s gaze. “It’s important.”

“Oh, well if it’s _important_ then sure,” Dean said, sarcasm dripping off his tongue. “Why don’t you just tell us what you suspect? Maybe I can answer without you shoving your hand in my chest.”

Castiel sighed again. “I’m concerned because if Crowley and I manage to send you and Sam back in time as planned and something happens to either one….” He glared at Dean. “May I please just look first before I worry about something that may very well be unnecessary?” 

Dean had learned the hard way that Castiel was not always to be trusted. Castiel had done some seriously questionable shit in the past, and no amount of Purgatory brotherhood was going to wipe that away. “Sam?” he looked at his brother for confirmation. 

Sam went to the weapons cabinet and pulled out an angel sword. “You try anything and you’re done.” His face was hard, and Dean knew that Sam was remembering the same things that he was. “I mean it, Cas.”

Crowley shook his head. “Well fuck me,” he said. “Team Free Will not on the same page anymore?” He arched an eyebrow at Castiel. “Done some damage have you, love?”

Castiel’s mouth went tight. “I have many things I regret,” he said and met Sam’s gaze. “I will not betray your trust again, Sam.”

Sam’s laugh was mirthless. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” he said. 

Dean moved to stand next to him and put a hand on Sam’s wrist. His muscles were tight as he gripped the angel sword. “I know you’ve got my back, Sammy,” he said, soft and sure. 

“Always,” Sam said, and watched as Dean sat down again.

“Do it,” Dean said and braced himself. 

Castiel rolled up his sleeve and looked at Dean. “You are aware that this will not be pleasant?”

Dean nodded. “Sam told me how it felt. Just get it over with, Cas.” 

Castiel plunged his hand into Dean’s abdomen, and the pain was staggering. Dean heard himself scream in pain, felt his body arch up and back, trying to escape the intrusive blade of power searching through him. He dimly realized that Sam had moved behind him, one hand hard on Dean’s neck and the other holding the sword ready.

It felt as though the agony lasted for days but it was only a couple of seconds, and Castiel pulled out. He appeared a little shaken.

Dean doubled over and dry-heaved, Sam’s hand still a warm comfort against his skin. “Holy fucking shit, that is about the worst thing that I’ve ever experienced, and I’ve been in Hell.” He sucked in several deep breaths, willing the pain away. 

“You okay?” Sam asked, and Dean sat back again, nodding. “Did you find out whatever it was you needed to know?” Sam looked at Castiel.

Crowley’s eyes were narrowed as he looked at Castiel. “Your little feathered friend is having a mild heart attack,” he told Sam. “Whatever he discovered while rooting around in your brother’s soul has not left him happy at all.” He said this with just a little too much glee. A demon was a demon was a demon, Dean thought.

Dean frowned. “You know what Cas is feeling?” 

Castiel sat down heavily on the chair next to Dean. “The bond makes things less…private,” he said and ran a hand through his hair. 

“So what did you find out?” Dean asked. Sam’s hand had not left his neck and the sense of security it gave Dean was confusing.

“Your souls are bound together,” Castiel said. “There appears to be a piece of Sam’s soul wrapped within yours and I’m certain that if I were to check Sam’s soul I would find a piece of yours within his.”

“How does that happen?” Dean leaned back into Sam. “I mean I’m assuming that to bind two souls together requires a spell or something.” He waved a hand between Castiel and Crowley.

“We don’t have souls,” Crowley said.

Castiel flinched.

“You don’t…” Sam sputtered. “But…”

“All demons were once human souls,” Crowley said. “But once they’ve accepted the rule of Hell then the soul becomes essence of hell-fire.” Crowley motioned towards Castiel. “And of course, angels have their grace.”

Dean shuddered. “Are you telling me that I would have become a demon if Cas hadn’t pulled me out of the Pit?” He’d known that getting off the rack had been the start of the Apocalypse. He hadn’t known that it had been the first step to losing his soul.

“Eventually,” Crowley nodded. “But your angel boyfriend managed to get you out of there before the Change took place.”

Dean looked at Castiel. “I don’t think I’ve said thank you enough for that,” he said.

Sam squeezed Dean’s neck and added, “Yeah, thanks for saving him, Cas.”

Castiel appeared uncomfortable. “I did not pull you from Hell for any other reason than obeying orders,” he said. “It was only much later that you became my friends.”

Cowley rubbed his hands together. “And then the proverbial shit hit the Apocalyptic fan and well,” he opened his arms wide, “here we are.”

Dean thought about what Castiel had said about his soul. “So how does a piece of my soul end up in Sam and vice versa?” he asked.

Castiel frowned. “I’m not quite su…”

Crowley cleared his throat. “I believe I can help with that,” he said. Dean didn’t trust a suddenly helpful King of Hell. 

“Assuming that we believe you,” Sam said, and Dean grinned. It was good to be on the same page again.

Crowley clutched at his chest. “Crushed,” he said, “I’m crushed I tell you.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Okay, tell us what the angels can’t,” he said.

“So, the two of you have both spent some time down under,” Crowley began.

“We didn’t go to fucking Australia, asshole,” Dean growled.

“Eh,” Crowley waved an airy hand. “Australia, Hell, all very much the same I’m afraid.” His smile was toothy. “In your stay with us, I think that perhaps some of your soul got a little lost, wandered around Hell for a while trying to find the rest of you.” 

Dean frowned. “But Sam hadn’t been in Hell when I was there so how could I...?”

“Patience, Squirrel,” Crowley said, and Dean clenched his fist. Hitting Crowley would be unsatisfying at the very least. He’d break something at most. “I think that your little piece of wandering Winchester found Sam when he made his way down there.”

Dean felt the tremor in Sam’s hand on his neck and reached back to press a hand to Sam’s thigh. “So there was an extra bit of me looking for my soul when Sam got there?”

“Exactly.” Crowley beamed at him. It wasn’t pretty. “But of course, being the pushy little bastard you are, when Sam had to come back topside, your slice of soul clung to his and most likely ejected some of Sam’s soul.”

Sam sat down abruptly, his hand dropping away from Dean’s neck. Dean felt its loss like a limb. “Are you telling me that when Death brought me back, I brought some of Dean back with me?”

Crowley nodded. “And then when you got topside, there was a little too much _you_ hanging around so the natural thing for a stray piece of Winchester soul is to find the other Winchester soul and hold tight.”

Dean tried to wrap his head around the concept. He was getting a headache.

“But why didn’t Dean’s soul, I don’t know, call the missing piece back to him?” Sam asked the question burning Dean’s brain.

“Because you two are indistinguishable from one another.” Castiel’s voice was very quiet. “I should have realized something like this had happened when I first felt your soul returned to you.” He looked at Sam. “I thought that it was merely because you are brothers and that is a bond…” he stopped. “It is never simple with the two of you.”

Dean sighed. “Does the fact that Sam and I are basically carrying a piece of each other mean anything for the mission at hand?” He would think about this soul thing later.

Castiel blinked and exchanged a look with Crowley. “If one of you dies, the other dies; that is the basic principle of the soul-sharing.” 

Crowley wasn’t smiling. “So, it means, that if we manage to get the spell right and send you back to the time after the Flood, before the Nephilim get organized, then the two of you had better be bloody careful with yourselves.”

“No more trying to die for one another,” Castiel added. “The results would be both of your deaths.”

Dean glared at him. “It’s not like we actually _try_ to get ourselves killed,” he said.

“We’re getting better at the whole surviving against all odds thing,” Sam said, and Dean looked over his shoulder at him with a grin. “Hey, baby steps,” Sam said and smiled back, dimples deep in his cheeks. Dean needed to see Sam smile like that more often.

“So, notwithstanding our soul-sharing, how long do we have to get this done?” Dean remembered Castiel only giving them a day when they went back to kill the phoenix and meet Samuel Colt.

Crowley and Castiel had another moment of silent conversation, and Dean thought that this was getting beyond creepy.

“We’re not quite sure,” Castiel admitted. “The combination of our power should give you more than a day, but we’re sending you back further than anyone has ever attempted before.”

“Hence me being hijacked.” Crowley’s mouth was a thin line.

“You agreed to it,” Castiel reminded him.

“Only because I knew there was no other way to deal with the Nephilim.” Crowley glared at Castiel. “If you recall, I agreed to help and _then_ you bound me.”

Castiel shrugged. “You’re a demon,” he said. “It’s not like you haven’t betrayed any deals we’ve made in the past.”

“Don’t go there,” Dean warned. “Both of you fucked us over when it came to Purgatory, and you need us to be on your side right now.”

Sam’s hand came back to Dean’s neck, and Dean calmed down. It made so much sense now that since his return from Hell something had changed between him and Sam.

“When do you want to do this?” Sam asked.

“We need to act quickly,” Castiel said. “The Children have already begun their quest, and if they reach the Tree before we have acted, then nothing we do will matter.”

“No pressure then,” Dean murmured. 

“What do we need to know?” Sam asked; body tense and ready. “What will we need to do?”

Castiel pulled out a sword. It was a curved scimitar with a thick and jagged blade. “This is one of the only two weapons known to kill the true offspring of angels.” His eyes were grave. “The _Children of Etz haChayim_ who are on the earth today are descendants of the original Nephilim.”

Dean stood and took the sword from him. The hilt fitted into the palm of his hand as though it was made for him. It was surprisingly light. “What do you call this?” he asked.

“The Scimitar of Heaven,” Castiel said. “Only a true servant of Heaven can wield it. As you were once Michael’s chosen vessel, you are the only human on earth capable of doing so.”

Crowley reached into his jacket pocket and produced another sword with a flourish, like some sort of Cris Angel wannabe. This one had a long spiked blade that curled into a wicked hook at the tip. “The Blade of Hades,” he announced, and handed it to Sam-. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you why you’re the only one who can use it and live?” He wasn’t smiling.

Dean could see Sam’s visible flinch. Any reminders of Lucifer and his time in the Cage made Sam shaky. Dean hated Sam being shaky.

“Tell us more about the Nephilim,” Dean asked, trying to draw attention back to himself. 

Castiel looked at him. “As the children of angels, they have certain abilities. But to all intents and purposes, they are humans. Only more human than you.”

“Superhuman?” Dean asked, and he really wasn’t trying to be an asshole. Sam and Crowley both snorted a laugh. 

“So is the Bible account is accurate then?” Sam asked, and Dean turned to look at him, question in his face. “The Bible describes them as giants, eight foot plus tall,” Sam explained.

“So on top of us having to take out angel kids, they’re giants too?” Dean asked, looking back at Castiel.

Castiel folded his arms. “They’re a little larger than normal,” he admitted. 

“Define ‘little’?” Dean demanded. Castiel hedging like this was never a good thing.

“Not eight foot,” Castiel said. 

Dean stared at him. “I hate my life.” 

Sam examined his weapon. “There’s writing on the blade,” he said, peering closer. Dean decided to have a look at his own sword. He held it up to the light, and the scrolled script seemed to roll across the metal.

“What does it say?” Dean tried to look at Sam’s blade but the words written kept sliding away from him. “Fuck, that’s just creepy, man.”

Sam leaned over to look at Dean’s sword and frowned. “It’s like the words keep moving away from my eyes,” he said.

“The swords are meant for you only, and if either of you pick up the other’s blade, it will kill you.” Castiel seemed very certain.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Dean muttered. “What are they made of?”

“The Sword of Heaven is imbued with the grace of Michael and forged in the fires before the throne of the Lord,” Castiel told him.

Dean sighed. “Clear as mud, as per usual, Cas.” He shook his head. “Just once I wish you fuckers would talk straight.”

Crowley put up a hand. “If it helps at all, the Blade of Hades was forged deep in the Pit using the blood of Beelzebub.” His smile was thin. “Many demons died to create the sword. It was never meant to be in the hands of humans.” His lip curled a little in a sneer. “You should feel honored, Sam. The last person who used that weapon in battle wore your skin for a while.”

“You don’t get to fuck with Sammy,” Dean was up in Crowley’s space, and the Sword of Heaven pressed against his throat before Dean was even aware of moving. Crowley’s Adam’s apple bobbed beneath his palm as he swallowed hard.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice brought his head around, and he saw that Sam was pale and shaking. “He’s just being a demon, Dean. Don’t let him get to you. We need him.”

There was a low thrum running down Dean’s arm from his grasp on the sword. It felt like rivers of electricity sparking beneath his skin. He let Crowley go and stepped back, looking down at his hand. He heard Crowley gasp for air, but it seemed far away.

“These swords,” Dean’s voice felt rough and abused, as though he’d been the one who’d nearly been strangled. “What the fuck are they?”

Castiel was beside Crowley, hand up and fingers pressing against his throat. Dean barely had time to see the burn marks fade. “They are weapons made with the materials of heaven and hell, Dean. They have power that was never meant to be here on earth.”

Crowley coughed and flipped Dean off. “What part of _not immortal_ is it so hard to remember, you prick?”

Dean ignored him, turning the sword in his hand, watching the runes catch the light. 

Sam stood beside him and examined his blade as well. “I’m guessing that it wouldn’t be a good idea foe Dean to touch my sword?” He looked over at Crowley.

“Only if you want him to die a horrible and extremely painful death,” Castiel answered him. “And the same goes for you, Sam. Don’t put your hand on the Scimitar of Heaven.”

Dean still felt the sword’s magic thrumming through his veins and wondered how Sam was feeling. “It’s almost like it’s sentient,” he murmured and watched as the script on the blade whirled and twisted as though it was a snake trapped beneath the surface of metal.

“To a certain degree, they are,” Castiel admitted. “They respond to whoever wields them.”

Dean opened his hand, and the sword stayed against his palms. “So is it a part of me now?” he asked Castiel, pissed off that yet again, the dick of an angel had not told them everything they needed to know.

Castiel stepped towards Dean and frowned. “That is _not_ supposed to happen.”

Sam tried to drop the blade as well but it seemed like it had been welded to him. “Seriously, Cas, full disclosure _before_ we pick up the magic fucking weapons!”

Crowley held out a hand and put a finger to the spiked tip of Sam’s sword. “Well, now, this _is_ fascinating.”

And then the two swords vanished.

“What the fuck?” Dean felt a sudden burning sensation in his forearm and for a moment was thrown back to the day when Benny’s soul had taken up residence there on their escape from Purgatory. Suddenly that time seemed pure and easy, and it made him miss his friend. Just as suddenly the burning was gone, and only a dully throbbing ache remained. Dean shoved his sleeve up and gaped at the huge tattoo that spread the entire length of his arm. “Seriously, Cas, what the actual fuck?”

Sam gasped as well and held up his arm. The tattoo of the Blade of Hades was branded on his forearm. “Crowley?” he asked.

Crowley held up his hands. “Don’t look at me,” he said. “This is not my milieu.” 

“You okay, Sammy?” Dean took his brother’s arm and lifted it to inspect the tattoo. It seemed perfect in every detail, down to the runes that had been etched on the blade. And just like the sword, Dean couldn’t read the words - they slid like water beneath Sam’s skin and made Dean feel a little nauseous.

“Holy shit,” Sam breathed and grabbed Dean’s arm to check his tattoo out. “How the hell did this happen?”

They both turned to look at Castiel, who was either constipated or confused. Dean had never been able to tell.

“Uh…” Castiel said and shrugged. “I don’t understand.”

“Awesome,” Dean said and sank to the nearest chair. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Now we don’t even have the weapons we need to kill the Nephilim.”

“Well…” Crowley started talking, and then pressed his lips closed when Castiel glared at him.

“Cas?” Dean knew when Castiel was keeping him out of the loop. “Start talking now or there will be a world full of holy oil in your future.”

The threat didn’t seem to phase Castiel, but he sighed a little and rubbed his eyes. “It seems as though the Scimitar of Heaven and the Blade of Hades have chosen you two to be their sole wielders.”

And Dean wondered at just how fucking insane his life had become that this _wasn’t_ the weirdest thing that anyone had ever said to him.

“Are you saying that the swords are now basically ours now?” Sam asked.

Castiel frowned. “I believe that they are now a part of you and that even if you succeed in destroying the Nephilim, they may not be willing to return to their proper places.”

“Proper places being heaven and hell?” Sam prompted.

Castiel nodded. “This is most unexpected,” he said.

Dean glared at him, impotent with rage. Angels were _such_ dicks.

Sam didn’t say anything, just stared at his arm. “Sammy?” Dean didn’t like the blank expression on Sam’s face.

“Looks like the trials,” Sam murmured, so low that Dean almost missed it. “Black bleeding into my arm.”

Dean grabbed Sam’s wrist, forgetting for a moment that he wasn’t supposed to touch the Blade of Hades, and it was like an explosion detonated in his brain. Dean could only remember pain like this from his time in Hell, as if his soul was being sucked out through his eyeballs and then shoved back in through his nose. He was very grateful for the darkness closing over him.

 

He came to with his back against the far wall of the bunker and blood pouring out of his nose. Sam was curled over him, breath hitching and heart racing. “Dean, Dean,” Sam was muttering his name over and over again, and Dean reached up to pat Sam’s hair.

“’M’okay, Sammy,” Dean sounded as though he’d knocked back about ten whiskeys in quick succession, voice gone rough and slurry. “Sh.”

Sam’s head came up, and his eyes were wide and damp. “Dean?” His big hands touched Dean’s face carefully. Dean winced when a thumb brushed his cheek. He could feel a bruise forming there below the surface of his skin and the callouses from years of knife and gun work were slightly rough against Dean’s skin. Sam’s hands had always grounded him. They did again.

“What the fuck happened?” he asked and let Sam help him to his feet.

Castiel and Crowley were gone. “Where did the Bobbsey Twins go?” Dean groaned as he took several steps towards the bathroom. He hoped that Castiel came back sooner rather than later. Angel healing would go a long way to making up for this fuckup. Plus he needed to know more about the swords on his and Sam’s arms. Knowledge was power and he had a feeling that the swords were a lot more powerful than anything they’d ever dealt with.

“Cas said that they had to get some ingredients to help with the time travel.” Sam forced Dean to sit down on the closed toilet seat and tip his head back. “Apparently, a demon and an angel sending two humans back two thousand plus years requires a little more than a couple of fingers to the forehead.”

Dean was pleased to see that Sam was calmer now. The washcloth was a cool relief as Sam wiped away the blood on his face. “How long was I out for?” he asked, voice muffled through the material.

“A few seconds,” Sam said, voice quiet. He stepped back when Dean made a sound and tugged the washcloth away from his face. “I was pretty fucking terrified,” Sam admitted.

Dean tried a smirk. It hurt. “Don’t worry, Sammy, I’m invincible.”

Sam glared at him. “Your face isn’t,” he said.

“So, no letting the swords touch each other,” Dean mused. Then he grinned. “Hey, I get to use ‘bad touch’ in an actual sentence with you.”

“You are such an asshole,” Sam growled but his mouth curved a little at the corner. “How do you feel?”

“With my hands, Sammy, with my hands,” Dean made a show of jazz hands and snorted a laugh at Sam’s pissy expression. “Head is sore, brain is mush, same shit, different day.” 

Sam nodded and stepped back. “Still an asshole,” he muttered, and Dean stood up to follow him out of the bathroom. “You need to change your shirt,” Sam said, a hand on Dean’s chest. “It’s full of blood.”

Dean looked down at his chest. “Huh,” he said and realized that he was covered in his own blood. “Now there’s something new.” He waggled his eyebrows at Sam who rolled his eyes. 

“Get changed, you moron, Cas and his new best friend will be back soon, and then we’re heading back in time to save the world.” 

Dean tugged off his t-shirt and tossed it in the laundry basket. He’d have to do some laundry when they got back. _If_ they got back.

He went to his room and pulled out another t-shirt. Then stopped. “Hey Sammy?” 

Sam came to his bedroom door. “Yeah?” He leaned against the door-frame, watching Dean lacing his boots up. 

“Don’t you think we should like, get some costumes or something?” Dean waved a hand between them. “I mean, dress more like Moses and less like, well, us.”

Sam stared at him. “Dude, your brain is terrifying. Seriously.” Dean grinned at him. It was good to be able to distract Sam from whatever angst mode he was heading into.

“Dean,” Castiel’s arrival made them both jump.

“Bells, I swear to God,” Dean told Castiel. Crowley looked a little haggard. “What did you do to your little Hellboy there?” Dean asked.

“I needed something that Crowley was not prepared to give me,” Castiel said. 

“So he took it,” Crowley spat, and if looks could kill then Castiel would be Kentucky Fried Angel.

“Ah, so sad,” Dean crooned. “I mean, a demon never took anything by for…oh wait a minute.” Sam muffled his laugh behind his hand.

“We have what we need to cast the spell to return you to the time of the true Nephilim.” Castiel was obviously in no mood to let Dean’s taunting of Crowley continue.

“Why does this little trip back in history need a spell?” Dean asked. “The last time it was just angel fingers on the forehead and hey presto.”

Castiel frowned. “It is complicated,” 

“So uncomplicate it, Cas,” Sam demanded. 

Crowley had taken a seat near the fireplace and closed his eyes. “It’s two thousand plus years back in time, boys; it needs a little more than your average angel mojo.”

“I thought that was why Cas bound you,” Sam said.

“I’m powerful, possibly the most powerful demon in existence now thanks to you two, but I’m not omnipotent.” Crowley sounded put out about it. 

“The combination of our powers will give us enough of a push to send you to the right time,” Castiel said. “But it won’t be enough to keep you there to let you do what needs doing.”

“That doesn’t comfort me at all,” Dean said.

“It _will_ work,” Castiel insisted. He looked at Crowley. “You know it will work.”

Crowley said something under his breath that Dean didn’t catch. “I’m not going to be held responsible if it doesn’t,” he said eventually.

Sam made an impatient noise. “Can we please just get on with it?” he asked. “It’s either going to work and we’ll be back in Noah’s day or it won’t and we won’t.”

Castiel made a small gesture. “Not exactly,” he said.

“Then exactly what?” Dean demanded, suddenly irritated with all the stalling. “What, Cas?”

Castiel made another hand movement, and Crowley growled. “Oh for god’s sake,” he exploded. “If it doesn’t work then you will be stuck there.” He waved between them. “We won’t be able to get you back if the spell misfires.”

“Fuck,” Dean said.

Dean watched as Castiel sliced his wrist open and then impatiently motioned to Crowley to do the same. It was weird seeing the other side giving blood for a change. Usually it was the Winchesters who were bleeding for the cause.

Castiel pull a handful of dirt out of one pocket, a sliver of rough, dark brown bark out of another, and added them to the mixture of blood in the deep wooden bowl, along with a single white feather. He snapped his fingers at Crowley. “Hellfire,” he demanded.

Crowley’s eyes narrowed but he obliged and set the bowl on fire with a touch of his finger to the blood. 

“That should do it,” Castiel said and looked at Sam and Dean. “Are you ready?” He held up his hand, and Sam stepped back.

“First, tell me what that was?” Sam pointed at the bowl.

Castiel frowned. “The blood of heaven and hell, bark from the Tree of Life, soil from the Garden of Eden, the feather from the wing of an archangel, and hellfire,” he said as though that explained everything.

“And?” Dean prompted. 

“The spell will take you to the Garden of Eden,” Castiel said. “You must explain to Gabriel what it is you seek to do or he will smite you with Michael’s sword.”

“As a matter of interest,” Dean said, “just how long do we have to _explain_ things to our resident archangel before he kills us?” 

“I don’t understand,” Castiel appeared confused. 

“Dude,” Dean said, “You know that angels are always about the ‘smite first and ask questions later’.”

“Perhaps Castiel can give you something that you can use to persuade Gabriel that you’re one of the good guys?” Crowley suggested, arching an eyebrow at Castiel.

Castiel nodded slowly. “That would probably work,” he said and produced a large black feather out of the air. “Show this to him,” he said. “My brother will recognize it as mine.” 

Sam took it and tucked it into his pocket. “Okay, so, you’re dropping us near the garden of Eden and the Tree of Life,” he looked at Castiel. “Where will the Nephilim be?”

“The official records show that the Nephilim remained near the Garden of Eden for several centuries before they moved into the mountains in the north,” Castiel said. “When the Flood came, the area around the garden was spared.”

“Because God likes gardening,” Dean said.

“Yes,” Castiel agreed, completely missing the sarcasm. Dean saw Crowley bite his lip. “So, that being said, we will deposit you as close to the garden as we can without drawing too much attention to you.”

“And can you give us an approximate number?” Sam asked.

“Number?” Castiel appeared confused again.

“How many Nephilim are there?” Dean laughed into his hand at Sam’s impatient tone. This was trying even Sam’s legendary patience.

“They were not many,” Castiel said. He shook his head. “The records are not clear. More than two, no more than ten. Gabriel will be better equipped to advise you.”

“Ten half-angel giants against two humans with sword tattoos,” Dean muttered. “What could possibly go wrong?”

Sam nodded and braced himself. “Right, let’s get this done.”

Dean put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You sure you’re up to this?” he asked quietly.

Sam looked at him. “Yeah. I need something to distract me from what the hell is going on with my body since we stopped the trials.”

“Okay,” Dean said, prepared to believe Sam but intent on watching him anyway. “Cas, come on, man, it’s time to wave your magic angel feathers.”

Castiel put one hand on Crowley’s arm and gestured for Sam and Dean to come forward. “We have bought you a day. That is all we are able to give you with the power that heaven and hell combined.” His eyes were dark and serious. “Don’t waste a moment.”

Dean nodded. “So all the extra juice you were boasting about and it’s still only twenty-four hours?” He wondered how the fuck they were going to get this done.

“Two thousand plus years, Bozo,” Crowley snarled. “As it is…” He stopped and winced when Castiel squeezed his arm. “Just do your job and try not to change too much history, will you?”

“Oh god,” Sam said. “I didn’t even think of that.” 

Castiel leveled a glare at Crowley. “Whatever changes to the future that the destruction of the Nephilim creates, it can only be positive. They are a monstrous abomination.”

“Huh,” Dean said. “I think you called Sam that once.” His smile was tight. 

“I…” Castiel bit his lip. “I was not wrong. At the time.”

“This is _so_ a conversation for another, less Armageddon-y day,” Sam said. He wrapped an arm around Dean. “We’re ready.”

“Keep a firm hold,” Castiel ordered and reached up a hand towards Dean. Crowley touched a finger to Sam’s forehead at the same time that Castiel touched Dean’s.

And the world fell away.

 

Dean looked around him. The landscape was endless, the vegetation lush and abundant. “Wow,” he breathed.

“Yeah,” Sam echoed. Dean turned to look at Sam, who was turning in a slow circle, taking everything in around him.

“You doing okay, dude?” Dean asked.

“I feel pretty amazing actually,” Sam admitted. “The normal time-travel nausea, but otherwise good.”

Dean laughed a little. “The fact that ‘normal’ and ‘time-travel’ are in a sentence tells me that our lives are seriously screwed up.”

Sam’s mouth curved in a smile. “The Winchesters seem to specialize in screwed up,” he said.

Dean squinted. “I see a light over in that direction.” He pointed, and Sam’s gaze followed his arm.

“I could make a joke right now about going into the light,” Sam said. Dean had missed this snarky, sarcastic side of Sam. Since the whole thing with Ruby and Lucifer and the literal end of the world, Sam hadn’t played around too much. He’d taken things too seriously, blamed himself for a lot of shit that hadn’t been in his control. Dean kept trying to remedy that.

“So, I guess we’d better get moving,” Dean said and stared walking in the direction of the glowing light in the distance. Sam moved up next to him and the silence was comfortable.

“So, about that soul-sharing thing,” Sam started. 

Dean groaned. “Geez, Sammy, can we not do the deep and meaningful conversation right before we have to go into battle with giants?”

Sam just looked at him, waiting for Dean to agree to ‘talking’. Fuck’s sake. Sam was totally using the puppy eyes. Completely unacceptable.

“Fine,” Dean groused. “How about you talk and I listen?”

“As opposed to how you talk about feelings _all the time_ , Dean?” Sam glared at him.

Dean threw up his hands, and the tattoo on his arm gave a throb. “Whatever, dude. I’m all ears. I’m _all_ of the Roman countrymen.”

“You are such an asshole,” Sam told him.

“I’ve honed my skills over the years,” Dean agreed and stuck his hands deep into his jacket pocket. “So, talk, emo-boy.”

“If I’d known that I’d taken a piece of your soul…” Sam began.

Dean held up a hand. “Shut the fuck up, right there, Sammy,” he said. “Neither of us was aware of what happened until Cas told us, so there’s nobody that needs to take a whip to their back.” He met Sam’s eyes. “Got it?”

“Yeah,” Sam looked down at his feet as they walked. “But if I hadn’t…”

“God, Sam, just…no.” Dean shoved an arm in front of Sam and brought them both to a halt. “I swear, you’ve made self-blame an art-form.”

Sam’s mouth was tight. “I’ve made mistakes,” he said, voice low and pained.

“And so have I!” Dean wanted this to get through to Sam's self-flagellating soul. “Sam, we’ve both fucked up so many times, and the world is still standing, we’re still alive, so I’m going to count that as a good thing.”

Sam still wouldn’t look at him. “You don’t know everything,” he said.

“I know all I need to know,” Dean said firmly. “You’re the only person in this world that means anything to me, and that’s seriously all I need to know.”

“Do you want to know why I took the trials on myself?” Sam asked and lifted his gaze. Dean hated the misery he saw in Sam’s face.

“Because you’re an asshole who likes to sacrifice himself?” Dean suggested.

Sam shook his head. “Because I have to pay for my sins,” he said, “and I figured that this was a good way to start.”

Dean rubbed his nose. “Sam, you went to Hell, you were Lucifer’s bitch for who knows how long down there, I think that whatever the fuck you think you need to pay for, that’s covered.”

Sam shook his head. “Do you know what the original sin was?” he asked suddenly.

Dean was confused at the change of subject. “Uh, Adam and Eve listened to the devil and ate the apple?” he guessed.

“No,” Sam said, “the original sin was pride.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “The devil wanted to be like God and wanted humans to worship him like they worshipped God.”

“What the hell does that have to do with you?” Dean asked. “Do you want me to worship you? Or, wait, you worship me?”

Sam blew out a breath. “Sometimes I wonder how you are still alive,” he said. 

“Sorry if I can’t always follow Sam-logic,” Dean muttered. 

“What I’m trying to say is that I took on the trials because I felt that I needed to make penance for something big, something serious.” Sam kicked at a stone in the grass.

Dean gazed around and noticed that there were animals everywhere. Figured that when it came to Sam, everything else just disappeared. “Something bigger than starting the Apocalypse?” Dean asked. “Because, seriously, I was the one who actually did that when I got off the rack in hell.”

Sam shook his head. “I’ve never talked about this to you before,” he said. “And to be honest, I don’t want to talk about it now, but the whole ‘piece of my soul is in you’ thing has made me realize that there’s a reason why we’re so unsuccessful at real life relationships.”

“Because we’re hunters and kill vampires and werewolves and know the truth about angels and demons and shit?” Dean suggested. “Sam, we’re never going to have normal lives.” 

“We both tried,” Sam pointed out. “You with Lisa and Ben and me with Amelia.” He stopped for a moment and swallowed hard, “and Jess.”

Dean could feel his face heat up. “Don’t start that again, Sammy,” he warned. Amelia was a subject that neither of them had touched since Dean’s last dick move with the phone call. And they _never_ talked about Jess. Ever.

“What I’m trying to say is that we’re messed up,” Sam was irritated. “Our whole lives, since Azazel and Mom and the fire, we’ve been messed up.”

Dean stared at him. “That isn’t new information, dude.” He watched as a herd of zebra walked across the path in front of them. He wondered just how weird his life was that walking in a real-life game park was _not_ the source of his focus. “We grew up wrong, shit happens.”

Sam stopped as a big zebra wandered up to him and snuffled at his jacket. “How is this even possible?” he asked, distracted from his thoughts and words.

Dean crouched down to scratch at the head of a baby zebra who kept head-butting his knee. “They don’t know that humans kill, yet,” he said, grateful for the momentary change of topic.

A roar from behind a copse of trees made them both tense, Sam had the demon knife out before the sound had finished echoing in the sky and Dean’s gun was cocked and loaded in his hand. The zebras didn’t pay it any attention though and carried on with their lazy stroll across the plain.

The sight of four lions coming through the trees made Dean tense. “Sam,” he breathed.

“I see them.” The lions didn’t seem too interested in the zebras, so Dean wondered if the squishy, slow humans looked a little more appetizing. Then the giant male dropped his head and grabbed a chunk of grass with his teeth and proceeded to chew on it as though it was the most delicious thing ever.

“What the…” Dean couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“That’s right!” Sam exclaimed. “According to the Bible account, it was only _after_ the Flood that humans started eating animals and then animals started eating each other.”

“The fact that you know this disturbs me,” Dean said and waved towards the big cats. “But it’s after the Flood and they’re eating grass.”

Sam shrugged, “Maybe it’s too soon,” he suggested. “Maybe humans haven’t spread out yet and animals haven’t learned to be afraid of them.”

Dean stared as a cub tumbled out of the trees, followed by three others. “This is one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen and, man you know I’ve seen some strange things.”

Sam just nodded and then froze when one of the cubs sniffed at his boots. “Uh, Dean…”

Dean tried not to laugh at the expression of sheer panic on Sam’s face. “It’s just a baby lion, Sam, no biggie.”

“Such an asshole,” Sam muttered and then stumbled back when the cub bit down on his foot. “Ow!” he yelped.

In a moment, a lioness was next to the cub, one big paw on its head and huge golden eyes staring into Sam’s. Dean held his breath, wondering if this was the moment that lions would find a taste for meat. However, she didn’t do anything other than pick up the cub by the scruff of its neck with careful teeth and carry it back to the family unit.

Dean let out his breath in a whoosh. “Woah! That was intense.” When Sam didn’t reply, he looked over and saw that his giant girl of a baby brother was busy running his fingers through the black mane of the king of the pride. “Yeah, ‘cos that’s just how we roll,” Dean muttered.

They spent several minutes with the lion pride, allowing the cubs to tackle them and take them to the ground with tiny growls and sharp teeth. The females never let them get too rough, and the big male made a chuffing noise every time he thought his children were being a little too hard on the weak humans. Dean would remember these moments for the rest of his life.

Eventually the pride headed back into the brush, one of the cubs biting its mother’s tail and, Dean would swear, grinning at them as they blended into the undergrowth.

“God,” Sam breathed, staring after them.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed and nudged Sam’s shoulder. “We’d better get going,” he said. “Gardens to find, giants to stab.”

Sam got to his feet and offered Dean a hand. “We’re not finished talking.” 

Dean sighed. “Dude, I really think we should keep the deep shit until we get back home.”

“And if we don’t get back home?” Sam asked.

Dean raised a shoulder in a shrug. “Then we’ve got a fucking long time to talk about it,” he said.

Sam stared at him for a while and then nodded. “Fine, but I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I swear,” Dean held up his hands. “We can talk about feelings until they bleed out of our ears.”

Sam snorted a laugh but his step seemed a little lighter. 

“Well, what do we have here?” A smooth voice made them both jump and whirl around. 

“Balthazar?” Sam asked in disbelief.

The very-dead-in-their-time angel stopped smiling. “How do you know my name?” he demanded, his sharp face wary.

Dean was pretty sure smiting was on the cards so he pulled out Castiel’s feather and waved it frantically at Balthazar like some sort of talisman. “We come in peace!” he yelled. “Emissaries for good! Heroes! We’re the fucking Winchesters!” 

Balthazar stared between them. “And what the hell are you doing with my brother’s feather?”

“My name is Sam Winchester, and this is my brother Dean. Castiel gave his feather to us as a way of identifying us to his brothers,” Sam decided to step in; obviously thinking that Dean didn’t have this handled at all. “When he sent us back here.”

Balthazar still looked suspicious, but less inclined to run them through with an angel sword. “Back from where?” he asked.

“The future,” Dean supplied helpfully, “back from the future.” He grinned. He was totally Doc Brown. Or maybe Marty McFly. Whatever, Sam was Lea Thompson, Marty’s mom.

Sam’s eyes rolled so hard they practically fell out of his head. “You are such a nerd,” he told Dean. “Castiel sent us back to deal with the Nephilim,” he told Balthazar.

“But they are the children of my brothers,” Balthazar said, eyes narrowed. “When you say ‘deal with’, what exactly do you mean?”

Dean wanted to tell Balthazar that he was sorry for the way things had worked out for him, what with Castiel going all crazy power-tripping douchebag on everyone’s ass. But then again, mentioning how Castiel would kill him in the future was maybe not the best way to get him on their side.

Sam had obviously appointed himself the spokesman. “According to Castiel, in our time, the children of the Nephilim have knowledge of the location of the Tree of Life.”

“But that’s forbidden!” Balthazar looked genuinely appalled. “Surely God would not allow it?”

Dean wasn’t sure how to break the truth to him. “God isn’t really interested in earth and humans in our time, man.”

“But,” Balthazar stopped. “You can’t tell me,” he said, understanding what they weren’t saying.

Dean shook his head. “Cas told us that we shouldn’t fuck around with the time-line too much,” he said. “We don’t want to change history.”

“Cas?” Balthazar’s eyebrows arched. “You seem very familiar with my brother.” His mouth twisted a little. “Castiel isn’t exactly the life and soul of the party in heaven.”

Dean grinned. “He’s apparently a little more relaxed in our day, according to the other angels we’ve met, including you, by the way.”

The smile on Balthazar’s face was delighted. “You know me?” he asked.

“We do,” Sam sent Dean a warning look, “but we can’t really say much more.”

Dean held up one hand. “Just one thing,” he said. “Forget about the Titanic.”

“The Titanic?” Balthazar’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Never mind,” Sam glared at Dean. “Ignore what Dean just said.”

“So, all kidding aside, what are you supposed to do with the Nephilim?” Balthazar asked.

Sam tipped his head in inquiry at Dean. “Should we show him?”

Dean shrugged. “He could make it easier to get to Gabriel.”

“Okay,” Sam rolled up his sleeve and Dean followed suit. The tattoos of the Scimitar of Heaven and the Blade of Hades were raised on their forearms.

Balthazar took a couple of steps back. “Is that..?” he pointed at Dean. “How do you..?” He couldn’t seem to find the words. And then went pale when he realized what the tattoo on Sam’s arm was. “Lucifer’s mark!” he hissed and raised his sword again.

“Wait!” Dean stepped in front of Sam. “We were given these weapons by Castiel and the King of Hell.” He wasn’t sure if he should name Crowley but it was so early in the time of the rebellion in heaven that it was unlikely that Crowley was even a blip on the angel radar.

“Only a creature of hell can carry the Blade of Hades,” Balthazar’s eyes blazed. “What are you, Sam Winchester?”

“Uh,” Sam said. “Human with a little bit of time spent in hell.” He sighed and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “There’s a lot we can’t tell you, but we really are trying to do the right thing here.”

Balthazar came closer again and peered at Dean’s arm, hissing as he touched the raised edges of the Scimitar of Heaven. He lifted his hand and showed them the blood on his finger. “The Scimitar cuts even though it is part of you,” he said. “It should not be possible; it is not meant for human hands.”

Dean shrugged. “All I know is that one second we were holding the swords and the next they were gone and we had these on our arms,” he pointed at the tattoos. “Not quite sure how they are supposed to work against the Nephilim now, but we’re hoping something happens to let us know what to do.”

Balthazar looked away from them, towards the shining light that didn’t seem any nearer to Dean. “And you think Gabriel has answers for you?”

“Castiel said that Gabriel would be able to help us locate the Nephilim,” Sam tipped his head towards the light. “We don’t want to enter Eden; we just need to stop the Nephilim from doing it and finding the Tree of Life.”

Balthazar frowned. “I suppose I could take you there,” he mused. “Gabriel can be a touch testy.”

“Testy?” Dean asked. He really didn’t like the sound of ‘testy’. Testy in angel terms usually meant dickishness and smiting happened.

“He’s been stuck guarding that infernal garden for the last thousand years,” Balthazar explained. “He’s gone past boredom and straight to homicidal.”

“Great,” Dean said. “Crazy, murderous angels on top of giant, wanna-be immortal half-angels. This trip keeps getting better.” 

Sam tapped Dean’s shoulder. “We only have a day,” he reminded Dean. “We’ve used up two hours already. We need to get moving.”

“So, about that lift to Eden,” Dean looked at Balthazar.

“This could be fun,” Balthazar agreed and reached out to touch them both on the forehead.

Dean hated angel-travel. It left half of his stomach back where he started and the other half trying to climb out of his throat. When he opened his eyes, the light was painfully bright.

“Who goes there?” a voice boomed, echoing through Dean, resonating down to his bones.

“Oh for…” Balthazar shouted, “It’s me, you ass!”

“Balthazar?” the booming voice was only slightly quieter, but the light dimmed almost immediately.

“Tone down the drama, please, Gabriel,” Balthazar waved a hand in front of him as though he was clearing away smoke. 

Gabriel leveled a glare at him. “I can’t help it if the glory that is me is too much for you to…hello?” he stared at Sam and Dean. “Humans? At the gates of Eden?” He raised a hand in threat, and Balthazar stepped in front of them. 

“Hold your horses, big brother, they come in peace.” He showed Gabriel the feather Dean had given him. “Our little brother, Castiel, sent these two back in time to kill the Nephilim.”

“Kill the children of my brothers?” Gabriel’s voice was terrible and Dean felt the weight of it pushing him to the ground. The archangel’s light was a burning pain across his skin.

“They’re planning on eating from the Tree of Life!” Sam shouted.

The crushing sound stopped. “What?” Gabriel stared at them. “That isn’t possible. I am the guardian to Eden and no-one can get past me.” He indicated the massive sword that spun, suspended in the air between two huge trees.

“Uh…” Dean wasn’t quite sure how to tell Gabriel that he was actually no longer in this world in the future.

“The only way that anyone can gain access to Eden is if I am not…” Gabriel stopped and went pale. “I’m dead in your time, aren’t I?” It wasn’t a question.

Sam shrugged apologetically. “Sorry to have to tell you, but yeah.”

“Although, for what it’s worth,” Dean interjected. “Total hero’s death, dude. Apart from the porn.” He shuddered, remembering Gabriel’s farewell to them. Gabriel just looked bewildered.

Balthazar put a comforting hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Perhaps we can change the future if we change _this_ past?”

Dean had wondered just how much they would end up changing by destroying the Nephilim. It made his head hurt. 

“I don’t want to rush anyone,” Sam said, “but we’re on a very tight schedule here.”

Gabriel’s gaze was piercing as he looked at Sam. “How far back have you come?” he asked.

“Give or take two thousand years,” Sam said.

Gabriel nodded. “That sort of time-trip would need a little more power than the average angel would have, and my little brother is pretty average.”

“Hey!” Dean felt obliged to defend Castiel. “Cas isn’t all _that_ average!” He moved out of the way of Sam’s hand. “No seriously, he’s done some bad-ass shit.”

Sam snorted. “And some _bad_ -ass shit,” he said.

Dean had to acknowledge that. “Yeah, he’s had his moments of douchetasticness, but he’s a friend, so we’ve cut him a little more slack than others.”

“And that’s been so good for all of us,” Sam’s tone was dry. Dean didn’t like to think too hard on the days after Sam’s wall had come tumbling down due to one of those asshole moves. It had taken him a long time to forgive Castiel, but he would never forget. Angels weren’t to be trusted. He’d learned that lesson all too well.

“My, my, I’m sensing a little resentment,” Balthazar sidled up to Sam. “What did Castiel do to you, dear boy?”

Sam stared at him. “Do you have any idea how creepy that sounds?” he asked. Dean grinned. Angels were dicks and they brought out the absolute worst in Sam.

Balthazar scowled at him. “I’m a pure being,” he said, putting a hand to his chest. “The driven snow, that’s me.”

Gabriel’s smirk was small but significant. “Not for lack of trying,” he observed.

Balthazar’s eyes sparkled. “I was a little too late for the ladies,” he nodded, “but on the plus side, at least that means I have no offspring needing to be put down.”

Gabriel sobered. “What do you need from me?” he asked.

Dean was surprised. “I expected to have to do a little more persuading,” he admitted.

“If anyone eats of the Tree of Life while mortal, it will give that one immortality.” Gabriel was very grave. “That cannot come to pass.”

“Cas told us that you may know where we can find them,” Sam said. “We can’t waste any more time.”

“I believe they are in the mountains,” Gabriel said and pointed towards the east. 

“How did they survive the Flood?” Sam asked. 

Gabriel blew out a breath. “That is sort of my fault,” he confessed. “I knew that my brothers would be devastated if all their children were destroyed, so I managed to shelter three of them at the entrance to Eden.”

Sam looked over at where the enormous sword revolved slowly in the air. “You protected them, and now _we’re_ facing the consequences?”

Gabriel winced. “I didn’t plan to do anything other than take care of my brothers’ children.”

“Gabriel,” Balthazar shook his head. “Well done on stuffing up royally. Do you know what the Lord is going to do to you when He finds out?”

“I'm sure he knows already,” Gabriel said. “But I couldn't just let them all die.”

“Well, they're our problem now,” Dean said. “So we'd like to fix it as quickly as possible and then head back home if you don't mind.”

“I'm assuming that fixing means killing,” Gabriel said. “I don't think I could kill a child.” 

“So, tell us where they are and _we’ll_ take care of them,” Dean said. He flexed his arm and felt the slow-burn-hum of the Scimitar of Heaven beneath his skin.

“It’s not that easy,” Gabriel said. “There are more of them now.”

“How many?” Sam asked.

“Eight,” he said. “Maybe nine, no more than ten.”

“That’s what Cas said,” Dean noted, nodding to Sam.

“Our brother is surprisingly well-informed,” Balthazar said.

“Apparently you lot keep records,” Sam said.

“That is Raphael’s doing, I bet,” Gabriel glowered. “Ever the scholar.”

“Some things haven’t changed in millennia,” Balthazar agreed. He looked at Sam and Dean. “Even with the weapons you’re carrying, two humans won’t be able to take on two Nephilim, let alone ten of them.”

“We’re pretty good in a fight,” Dean defended. “We’ve had a lot of practice.”

“The Nephilim are powerful,” Gabriel said. “You may need some help.”

“Hello,” Balthazar raised a hand. “I hope you’re not volunteering my services because I’d really like Michael not to want to kill me for the rest of eternity.”

“Okay, so let the puny humans face the Nephilim, and you explain to Michael in two thousand years why his children are immortal.” Gabriel folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, watching Balthazar.

“Excuse you,” Balthazar’s eyes glowed white. “Since when have you been so quick to help the children of men?”

“Since I don’t want to be an angel kebab on the end of a Nephilim stick!” Gabriel yelled, and thunder cracked loud across the sky.

“Now that’s cool,” Dean said to Sam. “Pity he couldn’t have done that when we knew him.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gabriel asked. “Am I not an archangel?”

“The Gabriel we got to know was a little less about the rolling thunder and a little more about the sins of the flesh,” Dean told him.

Balthazar laughed and clapped a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “The Lord finally let you off your leash?” he said, waving the other hand towards the garden. Then he stopped laughing. “Wait a minute, if Gabriel isn’t guarding the entrance to Eden in your time, then who is?”

“Nobody knows where it is anymore,” Sam told him. “Cas put us as close to what he remembered as its location, but the knowledge of Eden has disappeared from history.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, “most people think that the Garden of Eden is a myth or a fairytale.”

Both of the angels’ eyes went wide. “Please tell me you’re joking?” Balthazar begged.

“Nope,” Dean raised a shoulder. “The future pretty much sucks as far as God and faith goes.”

“That’s even more reason to get involved,” Gabriel said. “Maybe we can change the future.”

Dean felt a chill run down his spine. “Changing the future might not be the smartest thing,” he said.

“Well, killing the Nephilim is already going to change things,” Gabriel reasoned. “Right?”

Sam met Dean’s gaze. “We don’t have a clue how though,” Sam admitted.

“The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can find out,” Dean said. Sam nodded.

“So, just one small question,” Balthazar poked at Dean’s arm without touching the tattoo. “Do either of you have any idea how to get the swords out of your bodies when you need them?”

Dean looked at Sam again. “Not a fucking clue,” he said.

“Brilliant.” Balthazar sighed. “This plan is going swimmingly so far.”

Gabriel stepped closer. “The Scimitar of Heaven is made to manifest when it’s needed,” he said. His mouth turned down when he looked at the tattoo on Sam’s arm. “I can only assume the same would happen with that thing.”

“Hey!” Dean protested. “That’s my brother, dickhead! We’re the only thing that can stand between you assholes and the Nephilim right now.”

Gabriel’s eyes burned. “I know you in the future and still let you live?” he asked Dean.

“I’m an acquired taste,” Dean admitted. “But then, so are you.”

“Right,” Balthazar clapped his hands together. “I think we should get going.” He looked at Gabriel. “I look forward to fighting beside you once more, brother.”

Gabriel smiled and Dean saw the future in that small curve of lips. He nodded and raised his hands. “Hold tight,” Gabriel said and Dean felt his stomach wrench again as time and space twisted around him.

*****

The mountains rose on either side of them. Dean looked up, and it was jagged rock jutting up until the cliffs almost met in the middle, slicing the sky open. 

“It reminds me of Petra,” Sam said.

“You know a girl that looks like stone?” Dean asked but allowed his mouth to tilt up at the corner. He loved winding Sam up by pretending to be dumb about shit he knew.

“Such an asshole,” Sam told him but he was smiling a little too.

“They know we are here,” Gabriel said, and Dean looked over to where he was standing, angel sword out and ready.

“Yeah, ‘cos we were so stealthy and all,” Dean grumbled and jumped when the ground shook. “What the fuck?” He stumbled back into Sam, who reached out and steadied him. The tattoo on Dean’s arm whined a little and Dean felt his heart beat hard and fast. 

“Who goes here?” A voice called from the shadows in the distance. Dean squinted to try and see the body belonging to the voice. 

A moment later, a giant stepped into the light trickling down from the sliver of sky. Dean felt his throat close up. The dude was fucking huge, at least a foot and a half taller than Sam. Dean wasn’t going to be able to call Sam a Sasquatch any more. Not after this.

“Holy shit,” Sam breathed.

“You are not welcome here, Gabriel,” the giant glared at Gabriel. “We have rewarded you for protecting us when the Lord brought the Flood, but that debt is paid.”

“Really?” Balthazar drawled, casting an unfriendly eye over at Gabriel. “Just what were you rewarded with, brother dear?”

“Nothing important,” Gabriel replied, but the tips of his ears were a little pink. Dean thought that he was definitely going to have to investigate that a little more. Once the whole dealing with giants thing was done.

“You bring humans to our most sacred place,” the giant accused.

“It has come to our knowledge that your people plan mutiny, Japheth.” Gabriel’s hand was casual but the sharp glint of the angel sword was not.

“We live in peace here,” Japheth replied, and his eyes slid across to Sam and Dean once more. “Humans are not supposed to know that we exist.”

“Well, see, that’s part of the problem,” Dean said and felt the Scimitar of Heaven like a pulse of heat in his arm. “You haven’t stayed hidden.”

“You are not from this place,” Japheth stated, watching Dean carefully. “You are not from this time.”

Sam stood next to Dean, his pose relaxed but ready. Dean wondered how the hell they were supposed to use the weapons of Heaven and Hell if all they did was play at being tattoos. “We came back to stop you,” Sam said.

“Stop us from doing what?” Japheth asked but his eyes were flat and Dean knew he knew exactly what they were talking about.

“Oh, you know,” Dean kept his voice neutral, “trying to eat from the Tree of Life and gain immortality.”

Japheth looked at Dean, nothing friendly in his black eyes. “We are the offspring of angels,” he said. “We deserve more than a miserable existence hiding away from mortals and angels.” 

“You have been given power and strength beyond that of humans,” Gabriel said. “By even thinking about this you are committing blasphemy. The Lord...”

“The Lord?” Japheth spat the title like an epithet. “The Lord was quite happy to destroy us all in his deluge.” His lip curled in a sneer. “Not even my father, Michael, dared step up and fight for us.” He shook his head. “We were abandoned like chaff to the wind. We owe no loyalty to anyone.”

“But I protected you,” Gabriel said, and there was something sad in his voice. Dean thought that it might be the moment that Gabriel's innocence was finally lost. “I gave you shelter and provided you with a home.”

“And left us to scavenge from the earth,” Japheth said. His eyes flashed then, and Dean braced himself. “We are loyal to ourselves and claim the fruit of the tree as our birthright.” He lunged for Gabriel, who brought his sword up lightning fast, and the sound of metal clashing rang through the narrow crevasse.

Balthazar leaned over to Dean and murmured, “Anytime now.”

“What?” Dean asked.

Balthazar raised an eyebrow. “The Scimitar?” he pointed at Dean's arm. “The angel sword will not kill the Nephilim, and my brother is about to be badly beaten.”

Dean looked back to where Japheth and Gabriel were fighting. The size difference was enough to make Dean snort a laugh, but Gabriel fought with a purpose and determination that Dean had never seen on the angel he'd known in his time.

“Any idea how to get these things out of us?” Dean asked, looking between Sam and Balthazar.

“Don't ask me,” Balthazar held up his hands. “I don't even know how you're carrying them and still breathing.”

The ground trembled again and Dean braced himself as three more huge guys stepped out of the darkness. Dean knew that they weren't going to be allowed to remain observers for much longer. “Shit,” he muttered. 

Sam nudged Dean with his shoulder, never taking his eyes from the men in front of them. “Maybe we should try putting the tattoos together again,” he suggested. “It seemed to have a pretty spectacular effect the last time.”

“Concussion isn't really the result we're looking for, Sammy,” Dean said.

Sam glared at him. “We can't just stand here,” he said.

Dean sighed. Half-assed plans were usually his thing, and they tended to go very wrong, very fast. “Fine,” he said, “but I'm just saying, if I wake up and I've missed the fight...” he lifted his arm.

Sam was a heartbeat behind him and pressed his forearm to Dean's. For a moment, nothing happened, and Dean wondered if they were going to die in the past. And then the tattoo started burning.

He gasped out a breath and Balthazar shoved at him. He took Sam to the ground with him, arms still touching from wrist to elbow, and Sam's body was shaking beneath his.

Dean lifted his head to shout at Balthazar but realized that the angel had basically saved their lives. While they had been focused on trying to get the swords out of their arms, the three Nephilim had attacked. Balthazar was woefully out-matched.

Dean looked down at his arm, and saw that the tattoo had vanished. The Scimitar of Heaven lay on the ground next to him and he reached over to pick it up. 

“Dean!” Sam called, and Dean saw Sam climb to his feet, the Blade of Hades tightly gripped in one hand, the demon knife in the other. “You okay?” 

Dean got up, hand curled around the hilt of the sword, and nodded. “I'm good,” he said and lifted his other hand, aimed and fired at one of the Nephilim fighting with Balthazar. The crack of the gun echoed and bounced against the high, narrow walls, and everyone froze.

“How about we have a little talk, guys?” Dean asked. The Nephilim that he'd shot raised a hand to his shoulder and stared in surprise at the blood on his fingers when he pulled it away.

“What is this magic that you wield?” one of the giants rumbled.

Dean waggled the Colt at him. He was going to have to give them names. “Future magic,” Dean said. “It can't kill you, I'm told, but it sure as fuck can slow you down.” He fired again, hitting the one who'd questioned him square in the chest. Red blew across the expanse of skin, and the Nephilim staggered back into the cliff-face behind him.

“Shem!” Japheth's roar made Dean look back over to him. Gabriel was on his back, Japheth's sword at his throat.

“I am not mortally wounded, brother,” Shem replied, his hand on his chest in much the same state of wonder as the other had been. “This human weapon is loud but not able to kill us.”

Gabriel used Japheth's distraction to move himself away from the sword threatening to sever his head from his torso. He blinked out of sight and blinked back again beside Dean. “Now would be a good time to use those things,” he said, nodding at the Scimitar in Dean’s hand. “Much as I rate myself as a fighter, the Nephilim cannot be killed by angel hands.”

“Right,” Dean said, and he looked at Sam. “Got my back?” 

Sam nodded, and they stood back to back as Japheth and Shem approached them.

“We’ll hold the others off in the meanwhile,” Balthazar called.

“Others?” Sam asked, and Dean felt his heart sink when he saw a few more Nephilim leave the shadows and come towards them.

“The children of men are not meant to wield the weapons of God,” Japheth sneered. “The imperfect sinners should not put their hands on the Scimitar of Heaven.”

“Eh,” Dean shrugged and firmed his grip. “You’re not all that special, you know.”

Japheth’s face twisted in rage. “I am the son of Michael, archangel of the Lord, and you are not worthy to touch a hair on my head!” He rushed towards Dean, his sword almost the length of Dean’s entire body.

“Now, Sammy!” Dean called, and he ducked as the giant blade swung in a wide arc over his head. Sam spun on his heel, the Blade of Hades raised and Dean followed him around, keeping at Sam’s back all the time.

The Blade of Hades seemed to scream through the air, and Sam found the soft part of Japheth’s belly between the leather breastplate and loin-guard. Japheth’s eyes went wide and dark. “This is a mortal blow,” he gasped as he staggered back, sword dropping from his hand.

Dean watched the blood pouring out of the wound. The hellsword had found its mark and dug deep, gouging out a valley in the Nephilim’s flesh.

“Dean!” Gabriel caught his attention, and he turned away from the dying giant to face his equally huge brother.

“You killed my brother!” Shem roared.

“Well, technically, that was Sam, but I’m okay with taking the credit,” Dean said and dodged the vicious swipe of Shem’s blade.

He darted in, and the Scimitar was an arrow in his hand, finding the Achilles’ tendon and slicing in and across so that Shem fell to the floor with a shout of pain. Dean moved quickly forward, standing over the fallen Nephilim. He turned the sword in his hand, angled it down like a spear and pressed hard into the vulnerable open throat beneath him. The skin parted like melting snow and Shem gargled out a scream. Dean watched him die.

“Ready for the next ones?” Gabriel and Balthazar’s angel swords moved so fast that Dean could barely see them. 

He nodded. “Let them through,” he called. Two more Nephilim broke the line that Gabriel and Balthazar held and lunged towards them.

“You take the little one?” Dean laughed, and Sam shook his head. The giants they were facing were almost exactly the same height.

“Fucker,” Sam shouted back. “You find fun in the weirdest things.”

“It’s one of the things you love most about me, Sammy,” Dean said and raced towards the big guy on the left. Just before he fell within reach of the sword cutting through the air towards him, he threw himself into a slide, skidding on his ass on the rough sand of the canyon floor and slid through the open legs of the Nephilim aiming for his heart.

He shoved his arm up, the Scimitar of Heaven singing death as it cut into the softest flesh of the inner thigh, the artery bursting open and blood gushing out in a pulsing fountain. Dean was covered in it.

“You alright?” Sam called, and Dean wiped the blood from his eyes to see Sam holding the fourth Nephilim at bay.

“I’m good,” he stuck up a thumb. “You?”

“Could use a little help here,” Sam admitted as he danced out of the way of the sharp spike at the end of the leather strap that number four was swinging.

“On my way,” Dean said. He clambered to his feet, slipping a little in the pool of blood around him. 

“Anytime soon!” Sam shouted. He threw himself to the side, narrowly escaping decapitation.

“Just gimme a second,” Dean scowled, and then stumbled to his knees again as something hit him between his shoulders. “Seriously?” he dropped to his belly, feeling the air part above his head as another one of the Nephilim attacked. 

“Dean!” Sam shouted; sudden panic in his voice.

“It’s okay, I’m okay!” Dean shouted back. “Stay on task, man.” Dean rolled to his back and managed to just get his shoulder out of the way as a kind of axe hurtled down towards him. “Holy shit!” he yelped, scrambling to the side. Through this all, the Scimitar of Heaven had stayed in his hand as though welded to his flesh.

“The others are coming!” Gabriel’s frantic shout made Dean look over to where the angels were trying their best to hold two more Nephilim back. Dean noticed that one was a woman and another looked young, a teenager maybe. He didn’t want to kill a kid.

“Fuck!” Dean sliced blindly at the air and felt the Scimitar hit flesh, sink in, and carve bone. The Nephilim screamed above him, axe dropping from already dead fingers as guts dropped and coated Dean in blood and meat. “Fuck,” Dean breathed again and the Scimitar crooned and shook in his hand, eager to continue dispensing death.

“You need a hand there?” Balthazar was suddenly at his side, yanking him upright. 

Dean swayed a little and sucked in a breath. He sort of wished that he hadn’t about a second later when his senses were assaulted with the smells of violent death.

“Carry on then,” Balthazar ordered, far too cheerfully in Dean’s opinion. “Much work still to be done here.” 

Dean managed a scowl as he headed towards Sam again. “I hate all angels,” he told Sam, swinging the Scimitar up and around and catching the Nephilim who had cornered Sam across the length of his back. “Every fucking last one of them.”

“Duly noted,” Sam gasped, and Dean could actually hear the Blade of Hades sing in joy as Sam found his mark and sliced the Nephilim’s throat in one sleek move.

“Not bad,” Dean nodded and turned to face the next challenge. “How many are there supposed to be again?” He looked over at Sam who looked slightly less worse for wear than he did.

“Eight or ten,” Sam said and leaned forward a little. “Shit, they’re big motherfuckers.”

Dean nodded. “Five down and three to five to go?” He sighed. “And at least one of them is a kid,” he told Sam.

“Yeah,” Sam said and wiped the bloodied blade on his jeans. “I saw.”

“Dude, I don’t know if I can kill a kid,” Dean said. “I mean, they haven’t actually done anything yet.”

“Well, apart from trying to kill us,” Sam pointed out.

“After we invaded their space,” Dean said.

“Dean, are you trying to talk yourself out of this?” Sam asked, eyebrows practically on the back of his head they were raised so high. “Because now is a really bad time to be re-thinking our battle plans.”

“Excuse me,” Gabriel’s polite tone caused them both to look over to where he was standing, sword out and holding off three Nephilim. “Whenever the two of you are ready, you just let me know and I’ll send this lot over, alright? In the meantime, I’ll make them a meal and give them some water.”

Dean glared. “I’m sensing a little sarcasm there, Gabe.”

“Don’t call me Gabe,” Gabriel told him.

“Stop,” the woman spoke, and her voice was deep and sounded like the clash of distant bells. “Why do you do this?”

Sam straightened. “We have to stop you before you do something that puts us all in danger.”

Her smile was bitter. “So you kill us without giving us the opportunity for redemption?”

“I…” Sam seemed at a loss.

Dean looked around them and winced. It looked like a massacre. And thanks to the weapons of heaven and hell it had been. It had been easy to slice and stab and kill. He felt the Scimitar shudder in his hand and pull at him, begging and desperate to return to the battle.

“They’re from the future,” Balthazar’s voice was very quiet. “They’re here to stop you from eating from the Tree of Life.”

She stared at them all. “We have no wish to eat of the Tree,” she said, and there was truth in her tone. “We wish only to be left alone.” She reached out a hand and touched the boy. “We have never wanted anything else.”

Sam stepped a little closer, and Dean reached out to put a hand on his arm. There was still no reason to trust. They had learned this the hard way. “History paints your kind as dangerous, violent, wicked,” he said, voice even.

Dean felt a moment’s pause. “History also told us that angels were the good guys,” he said.

Sam watched her. “I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean. We’re hunters and we’ve been sent back to this time to make sure that your descendants don’t eat from the Tree of Life and enslave humanity.”

When Dean heard it put out there like that, it sounded stupid. Their actions seemed rash and cruel. Kill first, ask questions later. It made them more like the angels and that wasn’t cool at all.

She lifted her chin. “I am Lilith, mother of the last of the Nephilim and the children of men hold no interest for me.”

Dean felt his insides turn to ice at her words. He glanced to where Sam was frozen in shock and fear beside him. “We’ve heard of you,” he said, and the Scimitar whispered to him, asked to be set free.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice was a terrified croak. “Is it really..?”

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted, “but I’m not willing to accept coincidence anymore, are you Sam, because I’m really, really not.”

“Yeah, no,” Sam said, and he sounded a little more normal, a little less devastated. Dean was prepared to do anything to have Sam be okay. He’d burn the whole world down to make Sam okay.

“How do you know me?” Lilith demanded, and Dean could see something in her expression, something that reminded him of a little blonde girl with whited out eyes.

“You were an enemy,” Dean said.

“ _Were_?” Lilith asked. “I am dead in your time?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I killed you.” And the Blade of Hades was a flash of dark light as Sam leaped forward, Dean a moment behind him.

Lilith shoved the boy behind her. He was almost as tall as she was, well over seven feet, but his face was still puffed with the look of youth. 

She lifted a hand to Sam, and he went flying, slamming into one of the cliff-faces with a groan and dropping to the canyon floor.

Dean stopped and stared at her. “You know exactly why we’re here,” he said, and he glanced over to where Sam was moving slowly. “It’s no surprise to you that we came to kill you.”

Her face was lovely in spite of the twist of hatred that curled her mouth. “You humans think yourselves so clever,” she sneered. “And as for the Lord,” her eyes flashed. “He deserted us an age ago.”

Dean held still and waited. It had become tradition for the bad guys to talk a shit-load of trash before they were beaten. Lilith hadn’t changed in two thousand plus years. She didn’t disappoint.

“You dare to think that you can come back to this time and take my children from me?” she demanded. The boy stepped out from behind her once more, his face impassive. Dean wondered if he was innocent or if he was truly his mother’s child. “Arrogant worms!” She held up a hand again and faced Dean.

He lifted the Scimitar of Heaven and whatever juice she sent his way ricocheted off the blade and pierced the heart of the boy beside her. Her scream of sorrow and rage echoed through the canyon, redoubling again and again until all he could hear was a constant rush of sound and pain.

The sheer agony of her desolation was like a physical blow, forcing Dean to his knees. She'd killed her own son, with a little assist from Dean, and her heart was shattered. The sound of a mother weeping over a dead child was a terrible thing. It made something ache inside Dean.

He hardened himself, and was up and moving a moment later. There was no telling how long her grief would last, and he had one chance here. The sword sang again, slicing through the air as though it was flesh, and he jumped.

The impact was immense. The Scimitar of Heaven aimed deep and true and Dean could feel it part blood and bone and sinew as it burrowed into Lilith. Dean realized that Sam was up and moving and swinging the Blade of Hades above him about a second before the hellsword bit into Lilith’s neck and severed her head from the rest of her body.

Dean dropped to the ground, panting and sucking in oxygen as though every molecule had been squeezed from his lungs.

“You okay?” he asked Sam, who sank down next to him.

“Peachy,” Sam said and his voice was rough. “You?”

“I’ll live,” Dean said and groaned when he heard Balthazar shout. “Fuck, there’s more, aren’t there?”

Sam swung his head around slowly. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Two of them.”

“Please let that be the last of them,” Dean begged, hauling himself to his feet using the sword as a crutch. He felt like he’d aged about ten years in the last couple of minutes. The fact that they’d killed Lilith was something that was surely going to come back and bite them in the ass when they got back home. That was a whole other bag of worms though. He’d think more on that later.

Sam staggered up next to him, arms hanging down, the Blade of Hades dripping dark red onto the canyon floor. “Can we just finish this?” he asked, breathing harshly.

Dean heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I’m about ready to go home now.” He looked at Sam. “How long do we still have here?” 

Sam looked at his watch. “About twelve hours,” he said.

Dean frowned. “Seriously?” We’ve been here half a day already?” It didn’t feel possible. 

Sam shrugged. “Maybe the fighting and the walking took longer than we thought,” he suggested. 

“You and the fucking lion cubs,” Dean told him, but he smiled. “Come on, Sammy, let’s end this.” 

It ended in blood and guts and Dean’s arm ripped open from shoulder to elbow when the last guy managed to get a lucky strike in. Sam’s roar as he leapt over Dean’s torso, blade swinging in fear and rage, made Dean shiver. Sam was a scary dude when he put his mind to it.

And then it was over.

 

Dean lay on his back, staring up at the sliver of blue sky far above him, body aching in places he didn’t know he had places.

“Dean!” Sam skidded to the ground next to him, face wet with sweat and streaked with the blood of giants. “Oh shit,” he moaned, hands hovering over the gaping wound.

“Hey, Sam,” Dean heard his words slur and knew that the trauma to his body was taking him down. 

“God, Dean, you look…” Sam’s hands shook as he ripped off his shirt, pressing it against Dean’s arm.

Dean hissed. “Ow! Shit, fuck, godammit!” He didn’t want to look down. “Jeez, this would be a good time for Cas to show up,” he groaned.

“Castiel has healed you?” Dean looked up to see Gabriel and Balthazar staring down at him. Gabriel’s eyes were wide in surprise. “He must think you’re a friend then.”

“Hey,” Dean waved his undamaged arm weakly. “Dean Winchester, Friend of Angels.” And then he saw the tattoo buried into his skin once more. “Well, shit.” He looked at Sam. 

Sam stared at his own arm. The Blade of Hades stretched the length of his forearm once more in stark and terrible lines of black and gunmetal. The scrolling words twisted in front of Dean’s eyes and then stopped. “What the…” he said and squinted. “I can read it,” he said and looked up at Sam. “Do you know what it says?”

Sam’s eyes were stark, and reminded Dean of the Sam he’d found when he’d made his trip home from hell. The Sam who’d spent months killing and trying to make deals for Dean’s life and failing every time. “Yeah,” Sam said, his voice was quiet. “I know.”

“Hail Hell’s Boyking,” Dean read and then lifted his arm to Sam, forgetting the fact that he was bleeding to death two thousand years away from his birth. “Can you read mine?”

Sam frowned and then peered at Dean’s arm. “It says, “Chosen Defender of Heaven”,” Sam said. His mouth twisted. “Well at least you’re not getting a crown.” 

Dean made a vague ‘up yours’ gesture but hissed again as the agony of the cut to his arm throbbed.

“Can I help you?” Gabriel asked as he crouched down next to Dean and touched a finger to his forehead. The instant relief from pain made Dean gasp. The wound vanished, leaving Dean’s skin unmarked.

“Thanks,” Dean said and sat up, Sam hovering at his side. “Appreciate the assist.”

“You’ve done what you set out to do,” Balthazar said and waved a hand to the carnage behind them. “While I know you acted in the best interests of humanity and our brothers, I would suggest a quick getaway.” He and Gabriel exchanged rueful looks. “Michael, for one, won’t be happy at what you’ve done.”

Sam checked his watch. “We’ve still got some time here,” he said. “I know that Cas and Crowley said a day, so I don’t think they’re going to be looking to bring us back any time soon.”

Gabriel tapped a finger to his lips. “Perhaps the best thing to do would be to hide you for the next few hours,” he mused. “I don’t want your reward for your service to the universe to end up being death by an angel sword.”

Balthazar waved to Dean’s arm. “Michael wouldn’t be able to kill him while he carried the Scimitar,” he pointed out.

“Hmm,” Gabriel’s gaze seemed to spear through them. “I think I’m going to have to break my most solemn vow and hide you in the Garden until it’s time for you to return to your own time.”

“Dude,” Dean breathed, “you’re gonna stash us in the Garden of Eden?” He could feel every molecule in his body lighting up. He knew that Sam was reacting the same way.

Gabriel didn’t look happy. “I’m not happy,” he said.

Balthazar’s face was a study in shock. “You’re going to disobey the Lord for the sake of these two humans?” he asked.

Dean felt obligated to defend himself. “Hey, we just saved your feathery asses,” he complained. “No need to be rude.”

Balthazar ignored him. “Gabriel, this disobedience could mean banishment, abjuration. You could be found apostate.” He sounded horrified.

Gabriel didn’t look at him. He was watching Dean and Sam. “How can I do less than what they have done?” he asked softly. “They risked everything to come back here, to this time and fight enemies they didn’t understand. They did it because they knew it was the right thing to do.”

Dean saw the flash of the angel who had defied Lucifer in Gabriel’s eyes then. It hurt, remembering the asshole who’d spend a thousand Tuesday’s inventing ways to kill him. The dickhead who’d almost removed Sam’s ability to produce children, ever. The brother who’d taken a stand against tyranny and died for it. And then left them a porno to explain how they could win the final battle. Dean hoped that somehow, whatever they had done here today, meant that he’d meet that guy again someday.

“If the Lord ever discovers what you’ve done…” Balthazar’s voice trailed off, and he squared his shoulders. “Well then, perhaps we should clear up this mess?” 

Dean heaved a sigh. “Magical angel fire for two hundred dollars, Alex?” he muttered.

Sam snorted a small laugh, and Dean felt his mouth curve in a smile. They’d done it. They’d managed to take out nine half-angel giants and survive. 

The possibilities of Lilith being the demon bitch of Dean’s worst nightmares was a consideration for another day.

“I can’t believe you’d risk everything for these two humans, these strangers,” Balthazar was still talking, and Dean wanted to tell him to shut up and that he’d saved an entire boat-load of them back in the future.

“They are imperfect and sinful, and yet they still chose to come back to save the rest of us,” Gabriel said. “Besides, we are now comrades in arms. We have fought together and won. I can do no less for them.”

“Huh,” Dean said, and let Sam help him to his feet. “Backhanded compliment aside, the break would be much appreciated.”

Sam slumped a little, and Dean looked at him sharply. “You okay there, man?”

Sam nodded. “Tired,” he said, and the weariness seemed bone-deep to Dean.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “The trials have done a number on you.”

“Trials?” Balthazar asked. His sharp face was curious but not unkind.

“We’ve been trying to close the gates of Hell,” Sam explained. “Lock up the demons forever.”

“Well, that’s ambitious,” Balthazar said. “So, no success then?” Hos tone was arch and a little patronizing.

“We had to stop before we completed them,” Dean said.

“Because?” Gabriel asked.

“Because it meant that Sam would die,” Dean replied, and his hand dropped to Sam’s thigh. “Nothing was worth losing my brother. Not even fucking over the demons.”

Gabriel nodded. “I can understand that.” He narrowed his eyes. “There’s darkness in you, Sam and it’s eating at your soul in small, painful bites.”

“Yeah,” Sam said and his eyes were dark and haunted. “Yeah.”

“I can help you too, if you would let me,” Gabriel offered.

Sam frowned. “How? I mean, this is serious shit.” Dean could see the earnestness in Sam’s face. Sam always wanted to prepare people for the fucking worst case scenario.

Gabriel snorted, an inelegant sound that made Dean think of the Trickster and game shows and Dr. Sexy and genital herpes. “Hello, archangel,” Gabriel reminded them, puffing his chest out a little. “There’s very little I _can’t_ do.”

Dean thought that he might be right. “Can you fix him?” he asked. “He’s been so fucking broken for so long….” Dean’s voice cracked. He hated this emotional shit. He knew that he was tired, running on fumes after the fight, but Sam being healed, properly healed, was something he’d never hoped for. Not after Death had said it couldn’t be done.

“I can,” Gabriel said and motioned Sam to step closer. “It’s been a while since I’ve had to do delicate work, but I think I still have the knack.” His hands went to Sam’s face and Dean flinched. Watching someone else, anyone else, touching Sam always made him feel antsy.

“What have they done to you?” Gabriel murmured as he focused intently on Sam. “You have been savaged.” 

Dean felt sick. He’d known that Cas and Lucifer and the Cage had done damage, but so much of it had been first hidden from Dean, and then put behind a wall that made everything seem fine. When it all turned to shit, and Sam had ended up in a hospital, Dean had been prepared to kill himself just so that he could march right back into fucking Hell and take Sam’s soul back, even if it meant that he had to die to get it right.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice was a low moan, and Dean moved nearer, hand reaching out to touch Sam. He forgot for a moment that touching the tattoos together meant a supersonic boom that would hand his ass to him. He froze, braced for impact, but nothing happened. 

The Scimitar gave a low, hot pulse in his arm, but otherwise, stayed quiet. “Huh,” Dean said, and looked at where his and Sam’s arms were touching. The lines of the tattoos swirled and curled and moved. Some of the lettering slid off Dean’s arm and oozed onto Sam’s. Sam’s tattoo did the same thing and then they were linked by skin. The weapons of Heaven and Hell were holding them together with script and magic, and Dean couldn’t move a muscle.

“Keep your hand on him,” Gabriel said. “You two share more than blood.” Gabriel’s eyes were almost white now, and Balthazar started looking alarmed. He stepped forward and put a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, shuddering at whatever he was seeing. 

Dean had no clue what was happening, but it was about Sam, so he obeyed Gabriel without question.

“Do you want the piece of your soul back?” Gabriel’s question startled Dean, and his gaze flew to Sam. Sam’s eyes were intent on him but he didn’t say anything. “Dean? Sam? I can put things back the way they should be, heal you both completely.” Gabriel waited.

Sam cleared his throat. “Whatever Dean wants,” he said.

And Dean wanted. 

Dean wanted everything Sam would give him but he was never going to ask for it. “If Sam wants his piece or whatever back then that’s good with me, but I’m okay with mine in him.” He felt uncomfortable even saying it, like it was admitting that he wanted to put something in…and he just wasn’t going to touch that with a ten-mile pole.

“Leave it,” Sam said, and Dean stared at him. Sam smiled at Dean. “It’s safe with Dean.”

“You are such a fucking girl, Sammy,” Dean said but his mouth curved in an answering smile and he squeezed Sam’s arm.

“Says the douche who quoted the “Lord of the Rings” at me the last time we had a heart to heart,” Sam said, but his eyes were shining.

“You do understand what soul-sharing or soul-bonding is?” Gabriel asked.

Dean looked at him. “Cas muttered something, and Crowley laughed like a hyena, I wasn’t really paying attention,” he admitted.

“You will never be complete without each other,” Gabriel said.

Balthazar was making kissy-faces behind Gabriel. Dean was torn between laughing and hitting the asshole.

“Are you saying that he completes me?” Dean asked, and Sam glared at him, mouth pursed and at his most prissy.

“You are such a dick,” Sam told him.

“I’ve never had complaints,” Dean said, waggling his eyebrows. Then he flushed. That felt almost inappropriate.

“So we won’t be happy if we’re apart?” Sam guessed.

Gabriel shrugged. “Happy is an ephemeral concept,” he told them. “All I know is that the amount of love and loyalty it took to create this kind of bond,” he smiled a little sadly, “well, that’s something special, and I don’t think that the Lord or the angels would begrudge you anything.”

“Excuse me?” Dean put his hand up, the hand that wasn’t currently tied to Sam’s hand by a mystical sword tattoo thing. “Are you trying to tell us that God would be okay with us getting jiggy with it?”

“Oh my god,” Sam covered his face with his free hand. “How are you still alive?”

Gabriel stared at Dean. “You say we’ve met in your future?”

Dean nodded. 

“I’m guessing that I probably tried to kill you,” Gabriel said.

“A couple hundred times,” Sam agreed. “It didn’t stick.”

“It didn’t stick?” Balthazar started laughing, and Dean beamed at Sam. 

Gabriel opened and closed his mouth several times and eventually shook his head. “I’m going to have to do better,” he muttered. He looked at Sam. “How are you feeling?”

Sam blinked. “Better,” he admitted. “Pretty good, actually.” He tried to edge away from Dean but the inky black lines curled tighter around their arms. It looked like they were stuck this way until whatever the swords wanted to do had been done. 

“I cauterized the part of your memories that was causing you the pain,” Gabriel told him. “I can’t believe that you are still standing, still functioning with all of that inside you.”

Dean felt a moment of pride. “Sam is a Winchester,” he said. “We’re made to deal with crap on an apocalyptic scale.”

“Well, call this a debt repaid on behalf of my brothers,” Gabriel said. “I did not mean to pry, but I know that Castiel has much to answer for with this.”

Sam nodded slowly. “Thanks, but don’t blame Cas. He was trying to do the right thing.”

Dean opened his mouth to object. His issues with what Castiel had done by removing the wall were his to deal with. Sam was a way more forgiving person than Dean. For now though, he really wanted to find a place to lie down and catch some shut-eye before Apocalypse Maybe was sure to start again. “So, Gabriel, dude, how about dumping us in your garden for an hour or five until we have to head home again?” 

Gabriel’s mouth went a little tight. “There are rules,” he said.

“Of course there are,” Sam said, and Dean wanted to roll his eyes, but thought better of it. Progress and personal growth was an honest-to-god bitch sometimes.

“You must not eat…” Gabriel began.

“Of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Bad,” Sam said.

Gabriel stared at him as though he was an imbecile. “No, of course not,” he said. “That doesn’t matter anymore. Thanks to your forefathers, that particular tree is completely available to eat.”

“Oh,” Sam said and frowned. “So I won’t become like God?”

Dean glared at Sam. “Who wants to be like that asshole?”

“Dean,” Sam said.

Dean looked over at the angels. “Sorry,” he said, not sorry at all, “but your Father is a loser and has been a fucking dick of note to us. Several times.” 

Gabriel and Balthazar winced and their shoulders hunched. Gabriel even gave a quick glance up heaven-wards as if he was expecting a lightning bolt any moment. 

The tattoos chose that moment to curl back in on themselves and free Sam and Dean from their weird bonds. Dean noticed that Sam didn’t move away, so he stayed right where he was, pressed up against Sam’s side.

“Let me get you two out of here before you get us killed,” Gabriel muttered. 

Balthazar nodded vigorously. “I think that is a most splendid idea,” he said. He stepped closer. “I suppose this is goodbye then.” He held out a hand. “Even though I don’t know what my future holds, I’m guessing that you’ll feature in it somewhere.”

Dean shook his hand. “Yeah,” he said and met Balthazar’s eyes. “I’m going to only say one thing, and if it’s the only thing you ever listen to, then this is it.” He waited for Balthazar’s nod. “Don’t trust Lucifer or Castiel.”

Sam’s eyes were wide with shock. “Dean!” he protested.

Dean waved him off. “I can’t just keep quiet, Sam. Not when he’s been so cool about helping us.”

Balthazar stared at Dean. “I thought Castiel was your friend,” he said.

“He is,” Dean said. “Doesn’t mean I trust him.”

Gabriel looked between them. “And Lucifer?” he asked.

“Not going to tell you anything more,” Dean said. “Just remember what I said.”

“Besides,” Sam interjected, “I’m thinking that Lucifer won’t be so much in the picture now that…” he trailed off and looked over at the piles of ash strewn across the canyon floor. 

“Yeah,” Dean said. “So much for not changing too much history.” He had a feeling a shitload was going to be different in the time he and Sam would be heading back to.

“So, back to the rules of the Garden. There may be no touching the Tree of Life,” Gabriel said and his eyes flashed white. “Immortality was not meant for humans.”

“Not if you believe the Bible,” Sam said, and Dean poked him in his ribs. “What?” Sam asked. “Wasn’t it supposed to be live forever, have babies and fill the earth?” He looked at Gabriel expectantly.

“You two are going to be so much trouble,” Gabriel sighed.

Balthazar grinned. “I can’t wait.”

“I suppose that this isn’t goodbye,” Gabriel nodded to them. “Until we meet again in time.” Balthazar gave a jaunty finger wave, and Dean moved closer to Sam.

Gabriel tapped them both on the forehead, and the next moment, they were standing by a stream, surrounded by trees and plants and the sound of birdsong hovered in the air.

“Still a sneaky shit, that Gabriel,” Dean noted, rubbing at the queasy rolling of his belly. He turned in a slow circle, taking in the scene. “Hey! This is nice.”

Sam nodded and knelt down at the water. “It tastes like sugar,” he said, after raising his cupped hands to his mouth. “Like cool, sweet something.” He shrugged and sat back on his heels with a laugh. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

Dean grinned and squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “Good thing I speak Sam then.”

He headed towards a small cluster of trees that looked like they might be hiding a good spot to crash out in. He peered between the trees and was happy to see that the grass looked green and lush. “Come over here, dude, I think we should take a load off here until we get the boost back.” 

Sam came up behind him and looked over his shoulder. “A good place for a nap,” he noted with a small smile. 

Dean was counting Sam’s smiles. They came more often and much easier than they used to. Hopefully whatever archangel mojo Gabriel had done was going to be a permanent cure for Sam. Hopefully whatever they learned here would have changed some of the decisions they made in the future. Hopefully…Dean Winchester was not a man who had much hope anymore, but if it meant that Sam got a second chance….

“Check it out, Dean,” Sam shouldered past him into the clearing and reached up to tug an apple from a low hanging branch. “You ever seen fruit like this?” He held it out to Dean who took it silently. Sam watched him raise it to his lips and bite into tart, crisp flesh, eyes never leaving Dean’s face.

“’S’good,” Dean said around a mouthful of apple and offered it back to Sam. Sam grabbed Dean’s wrist and lifted the apple to his mouth, the fruit still in Dean’s hand. He deliberately bit down over the edge of the piece that Dean had taken, and Dean could feel his heart beat hard and fast.

It was as though the air was suddenly molasses-thick and everything around them was slow and sweet. Sam kept staring at Dean as his tongue licked at a spot of juice on the corner of his mouth. Dean swallowed hard and kind of forgot that he still had apple in his mouth. He coughed a little and snort-laughed until apple pieces came out of his nose.

“God, I swear, you are the worst mood-killer in the history of the universe,” Sam grumbled, patting him hard and unhelpfully on the back.

Dean wheezed a little and staggered over to a large tree. He flopped down onto his back, sucking at the air. “I’m fucking going to die in the Garden of Eden,” he gasped.

Sam was suddenly straddling him, knees on either side of Dean’s hips. “Mouth-to mouth?” he offered.

Dean practically choked on his tongue. “What the fuck?” He knew that his eyes were probably bugging out of his head, but this thing had never been spoken. He knew that whatever he and Sam felt for each other went beyond brothers. Inappropriately so. But he’d always thought that they’d never say anything about it, let alone do anything.

Right now, his dick was perking up real nice and begging that even if they didn’t talk could they please fucking _do_ already?

“Uh, Sammy?” Dean tried again, but Sam just stared at him. Dean licked his lips, and Sam’s gaze tracked the movement. It was suddenly a little too warm here in the leafy grove. 

“Soul-mates?” Sam’s voice was low and intent. “You think about what that means, Dean?”

“Not really,” Dean said. “I leave the thinking to you, remember. I’m the action man.” He tried to smile but his heart was sitting in his throat.

“This thing I feel inside,” Sam said, and he had his serious face on, the one that meant Dean had better listen or else. “It started way before you went to Hell, Dean. Before I left for Stanford, even.”

“Sam…” Dean wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Sam to stop talking or to never stop.

“No,” Sam said. “This is the time and place where we get it all out in the open. And if it’s a mess then we leave it here and never say another word.” 

Dean watched Sam’s eyes. They were the most startling feature on an already startling face. “Okay,” he croaked. He’d never been able to say no to Sam, not really.

“Okay,” Sam repeated, and then he just stared at Dean.

Dean grew a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “Anytime, Sammy,” he muttered.

“I’m thinking that you should go first,” Sam said. He didn’t move though, and Dean wanted to squirm but then he realized that he was hard. Then Sam would know, and everything would be shot to shit in half a second. 

“How about, no fucking way,” Dean said and glared at Sam. “You’re all about feelings all the time. You started this.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Emotionally constipated, I fucking swear.” And then he bent down and kissed Dean.

For a moment, Dean froze. It was nothing like he’d ever expected. Sam’s mouth was soft, slightly chapped, and very warm. Dean wanted to plunge inside and make himself right at home. So he lunged up and shoved Sam over and did exactly that. Kissing Sam was both terrifying and euphoric. It was perfect and forbidden and Dean couldn’t believe it was actually happening.

He pulled back, and Sam made a whining noise in his throat that made Dean’s dick hurt. “Don’t…” Sam whispered. “Don’t stop, please, Dean.”

“I…” Dean waited for Sam to look at him. “This wasn’t ever supposed to be a thing. I never meant for you to know.”

“You’re a moron,” Sam told him, but his words were soft with affection. “You’ve been the most important person in my life since the day you carried me out of the fire. I always knew.”

“Sam…” Dean couldn’t breathe. “You’re important, too important. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Sam arched an eyebrow. “Like we’re not completely fucked up already?” 

Dean snorted a chuckle. “Fair point,” he admitted. “But if we do this, I don’t care what you say, we won’t be able to come back from it. We won’t be able to take this back.”

Sam lifted one hand and yanked on Dean’s ear. “Stop being an idiot,” he said when Dean yelped. “We’ve been heading to this forever.” He pulled Dean back down, and Dean allowed himself to drown in Sam’s mouth and arms.

*****

Time passed differently in the Garden of Eden, Dean thought hazily. He lay in Sam’s arms, feeling content for the first time in a very long time. Maybe the first time in his life. Sam’s hands brushed slow strokes down his back, and Dean wanted to tease him about being so touchy, but it honestly felt too good to give Sam a hard time. 

“How long still?” Dean asked as he listened to the steady beat of Sam’s heart. He wasn’t sure how he’d survived any time without hearing it.

“I think we’re about out of time,” Sam said, and Dean could feel the ghost-soft touch of lips against his temple.

“Dude,” Dean protested, “I’m not a freaking girl!” He batted at Sam and smirked when he heard Sam’s low laugh.

“You can only say that if you’re not the catcher,” Sam told him.

Dean mustered up a glare. “You are an asshole,” he informed Sam.

“And yet you love me,” Sam said, entirely too comfortable with the “L” word. Dean’s stomach made several twisty circles.

“Maybe,” Dean hedged and felt Sam smack him lightly on the back of the head. Sam’s skin was warm and smooth against Dean’s cheek. He didn’t mind so much.

“We should get dressed,” Sam suggested, and Dean felt an immediate protest form. “I really don’t want to be yanked back to the future naked, do you?”

Put like that, it was a persuasive argument, and with only minimal grumbling, Dean washed off in the nearby stream and pulled on his clothes over damp skin.

Sam helped. 

A little.

They kissed slowly, learning the curves and dips of mouth and tongue. Dean had never felt more in-touch with anyone. It was pretty terrifying but also utterly awesome. Sam wasn’t just his brother, his best friend, his responsibility. Sam was his lover, his soul-mate, his future.

Dean _really_ hated introspection. 

They sat down at the river bank, arms and legs entwined. The tattoos made lazy circles from Sam’s arm to Dean’s and then sliding back again. The words on the Scimitar and the Blade blended until they slid away and formed new ones.

Sam was the first one to notice of course. “Hey,” he lifted his arm and stared at it. “The sigils on the Blade have changed.”

Dean lifted his own arm and peered at the words on the tattooed blade. “Huh,” he said. “Mine says “Blood Bound”. What does yours say?”

Sam squinted. “Mine says “Blood Bound” too.” He looked over at Dean. “What do you think that means?”

The pop of air next to them heralded the arrival of an angel. Gabriel kept his eyes closed. “Are you decent?” he asked.

Dean scowled. “Would it matter?”

“Not really,” Gabriel admitted and opened his eyes to look at them. “Ready to go home?” 

Sam frowned. “What do you have to do with it?” he asked.

Gabriel shrugged. “Apparently you need a little bit of a power boost to get back to your time. Castiel sent a message via Ezekiel who told Joshua who managed to reach me now.” 

“So what does that mean?” Dean asked. “You act like a slingshot or something?”

“You’re a lot smarter than you look, Dean Winchester,” Gabriel told him. Sam sniggered, and Dean glared between them. There was an insult somewhere in there.

“You’re going to send us home?” Sam asked.

“I’m going to send you part of the way,” Gabriel corrected. “The spell that Castiel and Crowley cast will probably meet you around the middle ages, but after that you should be fine.”

“Probably, should, none of that makes me feel comforted,” Dean said. He glanced at Sam. “If I end up with my ass facing the front…”

“We are not using a tractor beam, Dean,” Sam said in exasperation. “The spell is complex and very specific. If Gabriel can help us get some of the way home then the spell will pick us up much easier.”

“I don’t know about that,” Dean was dubious. “Somehow things with Cas and Crowley teaming up tend to end badly for us.”

“You trusted them to send you here,” Gabriel pointed out. “Now, trust me to help get you home.”

Dean still wasn’t sure but unless there was some other miraculous solution, this was it. “Okay, what do I have to…?”

 

Neither Castiel nor Crowley were in the bunker when Sam and Dean blinked back into their time.

Dean looked at the giant clock on the wall and noted that the time was the same as when they’d left. He’d check his phone in a minute, making sure that only a day had passed. They were still going to have to establish just what they’d managed to change in this time with their actions in the past. 

Sam smiled at him and headed to the shower, shedding clothes as he went. “It feels like we’ve been gone for about a year,” he said over his shoulder, Dean trailing after him.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. The great thing about the bunker was its shower. Okay, Dean admitted to himself, pretty much everything about the bunker rocked but he’d only really formed a bond with his bed, his robe and the shower. No judging.

“You coming?” Sam asked as he pushed the bathroom door open. Dean nodded and followed, watched Sam set the water as hot as Dean liked, step beneath the shower and groan quietly. 

“You doing this on purpose?” Dean asked as Sam started soaping himself, big hands making slow circles across his chest and stomach. Sam just smiled a little, the quirk of his lips telling Dean that Sam _was_ being an asshole and doing it on purpose.

He watched Sam lift his head to the cascade of heated water and close his eyes. Dean hovered a moment, unsure of what Sam was expecting him to do. He stumbled forward when Sam’s hand shot out and dragged him under the hot water.

“Not letting you out of my sight,” Sam mumbled, and Dean leaned against him. 

“Can’t believe we made it home,” Dean muttered into Sam’s skin. “And my ass is on the right way.” 

Sam’s hand slid down and squeezed said ass. “Looks good to me,” Sam said, and Dean barely stopped his eyes from rolling.

“You’re going to be a total girl about this aren’t you, Samantha?” Dean breathed the words into Sam’s throat.

“Yup,” Sam agreed, entirely too cheerfully, and Dean felt his mouth curve in a grin. Sammy was still the emo bitch he knew and loved.

He felt the throb of the scimitar in his arm and looked down. The flesh was raised and swollen but the tattoo still remained. “You think Heaven wants this back?” he mused.

“Don’t give a shit,” Sam said, wrapping his arms around Dean. He held on as though Dean was going to be ripped away from him at any moment. 

Dean was surprisingly okay with that. For a minute. Then he couldn’t breathe. “Hey, Sammy, how about more cuddle monster, less boa constrictor?” he suggested, pushing at Sam’s hips.

The disgruntled noise that Sam made when he loosened his hold made Dean smile.

“Oh my god!” A voice made them start, but Sam didn’t let Dean go. “My eyes!” Dean snorted a laugh into Sam’s neck. Then he realized that it was Gabriel, and he lifted his head to stare at the archangel. 

“Holy crap,” Sam said, and he was staring at Gabriel too. “You’re alive?”

Gabriel smiled and nodded. “We’ll talk more when you get your incestuous asses out of the shower, okay?”

Dean flushed a little, remembering that they were actually naked – again – in front of an angel. “If you’re going to pop in at random intervals, I’m just warning you that the next time you come by without calling first, you might actually see full-on sex,” Sam warned. “We’ve been given Heaven’s go-ahead, remember?”

“Morons, of course I remember, I was the one who gave you permission,” Gabriel said and waved a hand at them. “Now please stop blinding me with your mortal asses and move it.”

“What the fuck is it with you angels and showing up when we’re in the shower? Is this going to be a thing?” Dean asked and looked up at Sam, water running into his eyes. “Because angels dropping by all the time is not a thing I want happening.”

“It’s not going to be a thing!” Gabriel shouted from outside the bathroom. “Put some clothes on, you Neanderthals!”

Sam sighed and turned the shower off. They both dried off as quickly as possible and headed to their rooms to change. 

Dean noticed that his bed was a lot bigger. A **lot** bigger.

Sam came back into his room, the towel still wrapped around his hips. “Uh,” he said, “I think we share your room now?” His blush was kinda cute.

Dean pulled open one of the closet doors and sure enough, Sam’s multitude of plaid was hanging next to his combat jacket. “Huh,” he said and looked at Sam. “So we’re a thing for real here.”

Sam reached around Dean to pull out a shirt. “Looks like it,” he said and walked to the drawers. “My boxers are right here next to yours.”

Dean snorted. “I guess it must be true love then.”

Sam’s eyes were very serious. “Yeah,” he said. Dean ducked his head and smiled.

“So I’m guessing that things have changed a little,” Dean said to Gabriel as they walked out to the library. 

Gabriel lifted his head from the books he was reading. “The butterfly effect,” he said.

Sam nodded. “What we did back then has echoes today.”

Dean tried not to snicker. “Dude, you just quoted from “Gladiator”.” Sam glared at him and Dean loved that this was still the same, no matter what else had changed. _They_ were still the same.

Gabriel shook his head. “Boneheads.” But it was affectionate, not sarcastic. “In other news, Balthazar wanted to come and visit as well, but I told him that it would probably be better if only one of us was here to explain what your lives were about now. Possibly less to absorb.”

Dean blinked. “Balthazar’s alive too?”

Gabriel’s eyes danced and he looked a lot more like the asshole angel who’d stuck them in television land than he had way back in Eden.

“Our hedonistic little angel pal asked me to give you a message,” Gabriel said. “Apparently the Titanic never sank?” He looked at them in inquiry. “Make sense?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, it makes sense.” He nudged Sam’s shoulder. “I’m betting no Celine Dion song,” he said with a grin.

Sam snorted a small laugh and then sobered. “Cas?” he asked Gabriel.

Gabriel lifted one shoulder and made a face. “Castiel is Castiel,” he said. “Same old stick-up-the-ass, stick-in-the-mud killjoy that we all know and love.” He sighed. “But you’ve not met him in this timeline.”

“He doesn’t know us?” Dean felt an ache of sadness at the loss of a friend.

Gabriel shook his head. “Oh, he knows you,” he said. “All of Heaven and Hell know the two of you, but _you_ don’t know him.”

Sam frowned. “But how does that work out? I mean, Cas rescued Dean and me from Hell, and he defied God to help us.”

“I hate to break it to you boys, or actually maybe this is good news,” Gabriel cleared his throat, “but neither of you have spent any time with Lucifer.”

“What?” Dean gaped at him and knew that Sam’s expression was the same. “I remember Hell, man! I carry the fucking emotional and mental trauma!”

Sam nodded. “I can remember every moment of my time there,” he agreed. 

“You won’t remember a thing in a day or too,” Gabriel was completely serious as he looked between them. “Eventually your memories will only be of the life you live now.” 

“So everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve done…” Dean wasn’t sure if he was mad or sad or glad. Their lives had been mostly craptastic from the word go.

“A lot of the things you did in your previous ‘life’, you have done in this one,” Gabriel said. “But there are some major changes, and much of it is because of what you did back in Eden.”

“Dad?” Dean asked, hoping for a miracle.

Gabriel appeared sincerely regretful. “I’m sorry, Dean, but John Winchester was killed by a demon called Abaddon about five years ago.”

“Abaddon?” Sam asked. “She’s still around?” He looked at Dean. “Didn’t we vanquish her?”

“Things are not what they were,” Gabriel reminded them. 

“Mom?” Dean flinched at the almost desperate hope in Sam’s voice.

This time Gabriel smiled. “Mary Winchester is the head of the Men of Letters,” he said. “And let me tell you, her ascent to the seat has made a lot of your misogynistic cronies very uncomfortable.”

“Mom,” Dean breathed, and his throat felt tight and raw.

“Can we see her?” Sam asked, and Dean wanted to grab his hand and just hold on. This was a gift that neither of them had been expecting.

“She’ll be here in the morning,” Gabriel said. “I’ve been staying in touch with her over the years. She needed to know what had happened.”

Dean closed his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed at the thought of being able to see his mom again, hug her, tell her he loved her. And then the memories crashed into him, through him like a tidal wave. They were memories of a life that he hadn’t lived and yet he had. The visceral reactions and emotions were all there. 

Henry, Granddad, talking to them about their legacy and how each Man of Letters was bound to a Hunter and that because Sam and Dean were brothers, the bond between them would be stronger than normal.

Samuel, Gramps, teaching them how to shoot, and Dad being the worst shot of all of them. Mom being the best of course. And she never let them forget it.

The family holiday to the Grand Canyon when Sam finally graduated from high school. Their last holiday together as a family. Sitting at Eagle Point and watching the sun going down over an almost alien landscape painted in shades of red and pink and gold.

Sam graduating from Stanford, Mom and Dad next to him in the crowd, whistling and cat-calling and laughing at Sam’s brightly flushed face.

Mom and Sam clinging to each other at the graveside, burying Dad’s ashes next to those of their parents.

Sam kissing him for the first time that night, drunk and crying, nose running, and still the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen.

“Dean!” Sam’s urgent voice made Dean open his eyes.

“I’m okay, Sammy,” he slurred, head a little achy from the information overload. “Just got the Cliff Notes version of the road so far.”

Gabriel held out a hand. “Need a little help with the pain?” he asked.

Dean shook his head. “Nah, I’m good.” He looked at Sam again. “God, you’re going to love Mom, Sam.”

Sam’s responding smile was a little wobbly. “I know.”

Dean turned back to Gabriel. “How come I’m remembering and not Sam?”

Gabriel shrugged. “This isn’t an exact science, man. What you two have done has changed the course of history. But the good thing is that by the time you realize it, you’ll have forgotten what it was supposed to be anyway.”

Sam frowned. “That is really confusing,” he said.

“Try telling a virgin that she’s going to have a baby who is actually the Son of God,” Gabriel muttered. “Talk about confusing.” Dean opened his mouth, and Gabriel pointed at him. “No, I’m not telling you anything more.”

Dean subsided and then rubbed at his arm. The tattoo was sort of throbbing beneath his skin, and he wondered if it was reacting to Gabriel’s presence. “Fine,” he said, “but at least tell us how to get these things out of us.” He held his arm up to Gabriel. “We don’t exactly need them anymore.”

“Sorry bub, no can do.” Gabriel’s mouth twisted. “As you may have guessed, the weapons of heaven and hell are now a part of you. Literally.” He pointed the tattoos on their arms. “And I realize that they weren’t actually given to you to keep, but they apparently have a mind of their own,” he shrugged.

“And?” Dean prompted. 

“And as long as you two are in possession of the Scimitar of Heaven and the Blade of Hades, you’re sort of immortal.” He said this very quickly as though rushing through the words would make them less staggering.

“What?” Dean gaped at him. And then looked at Sam. 

“By the powers…” Gabriel stopped at Dean’s warning glare. “You can’t blame me for wanting to have a little fun.” Dean and Sam both waited. Gabriel sighed. “The weapons have chosen you and while they are a part of you, death can’t touch you.”

“Death?” Dean asked. “Tall skinny dude with the creepy face and the scary addiction to junk food?”

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Gabriel said, “but, yes. Death.”

“He _can’t_ touch us or _won’t_ touch us?” Sam asked. 

“Potato, potahtoh,” Gabriel said. “Suffice to say, Death is not in your future.” He sounded a little disgruntled about it. “I mean, it really doesn’t make any sense why the weapons of Heaven and Hell have granted _you_ immortality and not one of the angels.”

“Maybe because we’re not dicks and don’t want to rule the world?” Dean suggested, entirely unhelpfully.

“Touché,” Gabriel agreed. “If I think of Zachariah or Raphael with the Scimitar of Heaven…” he shuddered. “I think maybe the swords got it right.”

“Huh,” Dean rubbed a thumb over the tattoo on his forearm. It had settled back into his skin now, no longer angry and red, it looked as though it had been there for years. “So I’m a god now?”

“You’re a mortal who’s always been a little too cocky, which I like by the way,” Gabriel told him. “But essentially, yes.”

“Awesome,” Dean beamed at Sam. “Hey maybe we can shoot lightning bolts from our eyes.”

“I worry about your brain, Dean,” Sam said. 

“You are not fucking Zeus!” Gabriel’s eyes were almost like pinwheels they were rolling so hard. “Or Thor,” he added when Dean opened his mouth.

“Oh god,” Sam rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Giving this kind of power to Dean is such a bad idea.”

“Hey!” Dean protested, “I’d be awesome as a god! Free burgers, free gas, free pie.” He could feel his eyes glazing over at the possibility of an eternity of free pie.

“Yes,” Gabriel murmured, “giving immortality to the Winchesters is the smartest thing the universe has ever done.”

“Maybe I can heal the sick or raise the dead,” Dean mused.

“And on that note, godlets, I’m outta here,” Gabriel said. “But I’ll be seeing you around.” And the air popped and shaped around him in a flap of invisible wings.

Dean looked around the bunker. “Dude, we’re going to have to put wards and sigils around this place so that not even Michael or Lucifer can get in here.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sam said and pressed a kiss into the curve of Dean’s shoulder. “So, you and me together,” he said against Dean’s skin.

Dean felt a moment of fear but then it settled into the want-need-must have that had hummed beneath his skin for what felt like centuries. “I wonder if Mom knows,” he said and then promptly wanted to scrub his brain. “God, I bet Mom totally knows her sons are boning each oth…”

Sam shut him up with his mouth.

Dean postponed his freak-out until after he’d got his freak on.

Mom totally knew though.

**Author's Note:**

> set sort of endish season eight and going AU from there. No angels falling, but Sam in a bit of a rough way due to the trials.  
> Quote in summary is from The Return of the King. Quote in the start of the story is from the Bible
> 
> Please give my fabulous artist lightthesparks all the love here :http://lightthesparks.livejournal.com/98615.html
> 
> Alpha & beta by amproof & frammedhim who make everything I write better. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine


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